


My Kingdom

by rose_malmaison



Category: NCIS
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Established Relationship, Hiatus, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, episode s3e24
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 14:40:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_malmaison/pseuds/rose_malmaison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Gibbs is seriously hurt and suffers amnesia, Tony tries to get Gibbs to remember their relationship. Meanwhile Tony deals with the search for a terrorist, and fears that Gibbs is going to run out on him if he doesn't do something, and fast.<br/>Spoilers for Hiatus 1 and Hiatus 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first long NCIS story, written in 2013 for Gibbs-Tony-Athon, August 2010 http://community.livejournal.com/gibbstony_athon/. The challenge was a prompt by Tyleric, the lyrics of 'Kingdom for a Heart' by Sonata Arctica.  
> Because I had to work within the framework of the existing episodes, writing this story proved to be difficult for me - I didn't enjoy the freedom of writing an original story. Plus it was the first long fic I wrote, and the first time I was writing for someone else.

**My Kingdom**

I'd give a kingdom  
For one more day as a king of your world  
I'd give a kingdom, for one more day.

I'd give it all for a heart  
if I was a King I would give away my kingdom  
Treasures and crowns wouldn't mean a thing  
If I only had a heart, if I only had a heart...

~Kingdom for a Heart, by Sonata Arctica

 

Tony sat in the darkened room in the ICU at Portsmouth Naval Hospital, an untouched cup of Starbuck's coffee by his side, and watched Gibbs sleep. It was 0200 last time he checked, and although he was bone-tired there was no way he could rest. Not while Gibbs was lying here like this. Not when there was a terrorist on the loose. Not while his mind whirred around, rehashing the events of the day, mentally scrolling through images of the crime scene again and again, forming new theories, plans and actions. Jesus, when would it ever stop? "When we stop the bastard," Tony whispered, his voice husky with emotion, "and you're back in your usual rare form, Jethro."

 

Despite his overly active brain, Tony leaned over the bed and gently held Gibbs' right hand - the one that was free of IVs and tubes. The callused fingers were limp but thankfully not lifeless. A tight knot formed in Tony's stomach when he thought how the small glass evidence jars now being processed in Abby's lab could just as well be holding little bits of Gibbs. The sight of the blast area on board the _Bakir Kamir_ had been horrifying, even more appalling because it had been Gibbs in the middle of that explosion. It had been a close call. Way too close.

 

It was unfathomable that Gibbs had come out of it - been carried out, admittedly- with only a concussion and flash burns on his exposed skin. And there was the amnesia to think about, too. _Only a concussion…_ For a couple of seconds, Tony smiled to himself when he considered that head trauma and even amnesia seemed infinitely preferable to the alternative: Gibbs suffering a grisly death, being blown apart by explosive material hidden in an oil drum. But as quickly as Tony's smile formed, it disappeared. He sighed, his exhaled breath rough and unsure.

 

Gibbs was such an integral part of his life that he couldn’t imagine being without him. He wouldn't be able to go on if Gibbs didn't make it. For a panicky moment Tony thought Gibbs had stopped breathing, that he wasn't merely asleep, that… Tony took some deep breaths and struggled to regain the control that had rapidly drained away at the thought of a world without Gibbs.  Shit, it didn't take much for him to lose it and that was not good. It must be because he hadn't had any sleep for a couple of days.

 

He'd rushed to Gibbs' bedside soon as soon as they had the investigation under control, only to find Director Shepard already there. He'd stood by her side and watched Ducky and the doctor fuss over the unconscious man. Tony had even made a joke with her about putting coffee in Gibbs' IV, but all the time he'd been screaming on the inside, demanding that Gibbs wake up, damn it, that he open his eyes and look at him. Couldn’t he do that one small thing for him?

 

Tony stroked the back of Gibbs' hand with his thumb and concentrated on the simple action. He knew he had to remain calm. He needed to force those personal feelings that threatened to overwhelm him back into the dark place they came from. Now was not the time. He needed to be a rock, like Gibbs always was, in order to head the damned investigation. Tony said, "You'll give me hell if I don't get the job done right, Boss. Can't let you down."

 

***

_Earlier that day…_

 

Thirty-six hours after being nearly blown apart in a bombing, Gibbs awakened. Like most things Leroy Jethro Gibbs did, there was no half-measure in his action. He bolted upright and practically demanded the damned tube that was stuck down his throat be taken out. Witnessing the event was Captain Gelfand, and Dr. Mallard, who soon discovered that the Gibbs who had awakened so abruptly was not quite the same man he knew.

 

***

 

They NCIS agents heaved great sighs of relief when Director Shepard stood in the NCIS bullpen and delivered the good news that Captain Gelfand had told her by phone: Gibbs was awake. She then waited a beat before dropping the other shoe. "Well, Gibbs is blank about the last fifteen years. To him, it’s 1991 and he’s a Marine Gunny Sergeant wounded in Desert Storm."   

   
Ziva broke the silence and asked the question that was on all of their lips. "He does not know he is an NCIS Special Agent?"    

  
"I doubt it.  He didn’t recognize Ducky," was Jenny's clipped response.   

   
Abby blurted, "Well, if he doesn't know who Ducky is, then there is no chance…"

No chance, Tony thought. Shocked, he spoke aloud without meaning to. "He’ll never remember us."  

 

Jenny took command and ordered the team to continue their investigation. They would regroup later. "We have an Abu Sayyaf terrorist to apprehend."

 

Tony watched her head upstairs, towards MTAC, and all he could think was, 'Fuck, fuck, FUCK, we can't let her run things.' And Ziva was sitting there eyeing Jenny's retreating figure, muttering about how _Gibbs_ would never let _her_ take over the investigation, as if to say, 'Tony, get off your butt and do something about it.' Do what Gibbs would do. Do what the old Gibbs would do, not the probie Gibbs.

 

So Tony hustled up the stairs, right on Madame Director's heels like a puppy begging for a bone. And when he caught up to her he reasoned and almost pleaded to make her understand that there was no way in hell he was going to easily give up his position as the team's senior special agent. That it wasn't in anyone's best interest. That he was the best man, the _only_ man, for the job.

 

"I want you to understand that, in Gibbs absence," Tony said firmly, "as the team’s senior special agent, this investigation is mine."    

Jenny eyed him with a combination of barely disguised amusement and cool disdain. "Is it?"

      
"Yes, it is, Ma’am."  He'd take care of the two-reeler, he said, and she'd oversee the big picture. She sort of smirked at him and said she'd always intended to. She'd let him go on and let him know, without a doubt, that she ruled the kingdom. Tony had to ask, "Then… why did you make me say all that just now?"

 

Shepard's reply surprised him and made up for any embarrassment he'd suffered. "I just wanted to see if you had as much guts as Gibbs," she said.    

 

That will be the day, thought Tony, with a smile.

 

***

 

Supervisory Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo kept his team busy all day investigating, running down leads, hauling in anyone and everyone they could for questioning. Time passed quickly but Tony was itching to go and see Gibbs, and frustrated he couldn't get away.

 

Early in the evening, when Director Shepard returned from seeing Gibbs at the hospital, Tony went up to her office to report on their latest intel, which wasn't much. After the briefing, Tony asked how Gibbs was doing, trying, and barely managing, not to sound desperate for any crumb of information.

 

Jenny gazed out the window at the reflections of the lights on the Potomac as she related, almost dryly, how Gibbs had a meltdown when she'd questioned him about the events that led up to the bombing. "He wasn't able to give me any useful information about the bombing or the terrorist. I showed him photos and although he knew how vitally important it was, he couldn't remember. He has no clue about Pinpin Pula's next intended target. He…" She took a deep breath and finally turned to look straight at Tony. Her demeanor was calm and her words matter-of-fact. "They pumped him full of morphine to calm him down. Agent Gibbs doesn't even know who he is. He's lost fifteen years, DiNozzo. He's living in a past that he's kept a secret all these years."

 

From her tone, she could have as easily been saying that someone had lost their cat, but Tony could sense she was upset. Whether it was due to a dangerous terrorist being on the loose, or over Gibbs' tenuous condition, or because her former lover hadn't recognized her, Tony wasn't sure. Probably a combination of all three.

 

"Dr. Mallard talked to the doctor after Gibbs was… sleeping. They won't be able to assess him and the extent of his memory loss until tomorrow morning at the earliest. Gibbs is in no shape to provide us with any information," Jenny said tersely. "I have SecNav breathing down my neck so I expect you and your team to step up to the plate, DiNozzo."

 

***

 

Tony stepped out of the Director's office and stopped on the walkway to take a breather. He had no trouble taking orders from the woman. She seemed capable at her job and certainly had friends in the right places, but Jenny was wound so tight that Tony's neck muscles tensed by merely being in the same room with her. Where was Gibbs and his magic massage technique when he needed him?

 

Tony looked down at the agents in the bullpen. There was a full complement of personnel working hard even though it was well past the time most of them normally went home. They were as dedicated a bunch as he'd ever met and every last one of them was doing his damnedest to prevent another act of terrorism against an American port or Naval vessel. He'd never before encountered any members of Abu Sayyaf, but in his book, one bunch of terrorists was as bad as the next.

 

Below, Tony's own team members were intent on their own tasks. McGee was at his desk, hunched over, his eyes glued to his computer screen with as much fervor as if he was playing an online tactical game. Ziva was on the phone, and even from up on the walkway Tony could hear the strident tone in her voice. Ziva gestured angrily with her free hand then slammed down the phone and looked around. When she glanced up and spotted Tony she gestured she needed to talk to him, and went to meet him at the base of the stairs.

 

She was going out to follow up a lead, to talk to men on another ship. Although Ziva wasn't asking Tony's permission to go off on her mission, she had stopped to inform him of her plans. At least she gave him that much. Tony insisted she take another agent with her, and although Ziva relented, it was obvious she wasn't going to allow anyone to slow her down.

 

When she had left with a seasoned agent from the pool trying to keep up with her, Tony realized how good his teammates were at their jobs, and how little an amount of time it had taken for him to feel responsible for them. That realization caused a strange feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with hunger, even though he hadn't eaten anything for hours. First things first - he placed a call for the delivery of a dozen pizzas.

 

***

 

It was late when Tony was finally able to find a few minutes and escape down to Autopsy. Dr. Mallard was at his desk, intently scribbling notes along the sidebar of a report, so Tony leaned against the wall and waited for the ME to finish. Ducky had driven all the way out to Portsmouth a second time late that afternoon, and he looked tired. When the ME had completed his task and looked up questioningly, Tony asked, "What's the latest on Gibbs?"

 

"He was still sleeping when I left and will probably be out for some time. It must have been quite frightening for Jethro to awaken like that, unsure of what was going on around him, being unable to remember a goodly portion of his past. And then to be pressured by the director to the point of upsetting himself, and being forcibly subdued…" His voice trailed off and he looked at Tony without his usual smile. He frowned in thought and said, "It never ceases to amaze me that no matter how well we believe we know our fellow man, he still has the ability to surprise us." He added sadly, "It appears that Jethro has not been forthcoming with his oldest and dearest friends about his first marriage."

 

Tony managed to keep a neutral expression on his face while thinking: shit, they must have found out about Shannon and Kelly. That's what Jenny had been so upset about earlier. Gibbs didn't know any better and, with his Swiss-cheese memory, believing it was 1991, he must have said something.

 

Gibbs had told Tony about his first wife, Shannon, and his daughter only recently. Apparently he never spoke of them to anyone else, not even to Ducky. The records had been buried deep, Gibbs had confessed to Tony. He'd called in a favor - a big one - years ago, and had any record of his first marriage expunged from his files. Although Gibbs had never named his old boss, Franks, as being the one who had changed the records for him, it was just the kind of favor the experienced investigator would have done for his probie.

 

There had been good reason to hide the aftermath of Shannon and Kelly's deaths, in light of the retribution the former Marine had exacted for his loved ones' deaths. It would take an awful lot of digging to find out the truth of the matter and Tony planned to feign ignorance should anyone ask him about it. He hated lying but he'd do anything for Gibbs.

 

Ducky fastened his pale gray eyes on Tony's green ones and frowned at what he saw in them. "Is there something troubling you, Anthony?"

 

Annoyed at himself for allowing Ducky to witness his emotions, Tony let out a huff of breath and said sarcastically, "Oh no, nothing's troubling me, other than seeing Gibbs come only inches from being laid out on one of these slabs, and not being able to find out where Pinpin Rice Paddy Dike's gone to ground, or what his next target is gonna be."

 

Ducky indicated for Tony to take a seat next to him. "Perhaps we should compare notes," the ME said patiently. Tony sat but he studied his hands and didn't volunteer anything. Ducky peered at him closely, then leaned back in his chair with his fingers laced together across his stomach. "I will begin, then. Jethro never mentioned to the Director, nor to me, that he'd had _four_ wives, not three, as we were led to believe. He had a wife and a child who were both killed. Very sad. As we have both known him for many years it was a bit of a shock, to put it mildly."

 

Tony glanced at the older man's face. It was clear that Ducky was put out, and he didn't wonder at it. Jethro may not have lied to his friend, but he'd certainly omitted the entire truth. Ducky would take it as a serious breach of their friendship. Tony dropped his gaze to avoid the inquisitive eyes that seemed to bore right into his brain, and then immediately afterwards knew he'd made a mistake. Damn! Now Ducky would know he was hiding something. He should have brazened it out and kept eye contact, no matter how difficult it was to do so. All Tony could say was, "Some things are best kept to yourself, Ducky."

 

Ducky leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on Tony's knee. "But you already knew about them, about Gibbs' wife, Shannon, and their little girl, didn't you, my boy?" the ME inquired softly.

 

*** end chapter 1 ***


	2. Chapter 2

Tony kicked himself for coming down to Autopsy in the first place. He should have known, even before he set foot in this room, that the conversation was going to go this way. He'd let his guard down because he needed someone to talk to, and Ducky was the next best person after Gibbs.

 

It took a long moment for Tony to decide that he had to confide in the doctor. The decision was easier than getting the words out though. He nodded and cleared his throat. "Jethro shared some things with me." He gave a short laugh. "He doesn't say much but when he opens up, he sure lets it all out. He told me about Shannon and Kelly, and how they died. How they were murdered." Shut up, DiNozzo, before you let anything else out.

 

***

 

Jethro told him after they had a physical workout in bed. It was one of those rare times when Jethro was half-asleep yet wanted to talk. He started slowly, each word spoken as if it was weighty, a difficult obstacle around which he had to maneuver with great care. But once he began, the floodgates opened and the whole story spilled out, along with anger and bitter pain at the loss of his wife and child.

 

That had been one of the hardest things Tony had ever had to witness - his boss, his lover, breaking down as if his entire world had been torn out of his grasp, as if there was no salvation to be found anywhere. As if life wasn't worth living if he couldn’t share it with them. Tony had done everything he could to ease Jethro's soul-eating agony. He had held him and soothed him as best as he knew how. He'd seen him through the pain, had been so much a part of it he'd felt the wrenching loss himself.

 

But since then Tony sometimes wondered if he got himself killed would Gibbs would feel half as much pain at his loss?

 

***

 

Tony pushed the memories away and met the doctor's eyes once again. "You know Gibbs doesn't talk about the kind of things most people might think of as being important. Like the way he never said anything about being awarded the Purple Heart. You know what he's like about that kind of thing." Tony shrugged. "It's just his way."

 

"I thought I knew everything about Leroy Jethro Gibbs, but apparently I was wrong." Ducky's words were accompanied by a small shake of his head. "And our dear Director is somewhat nettled that she's been left in the dark over Jethro's past. As soon as I returned from talking to Captain Gelfand at the hospital earlier, Jenny called me upstairs for a little tête-à-tête. I do believe she was trying to wheedle information out of me about Gibbs. I had little to impart, really."

 

Ducky didn't seem very fond of Jenny lately, and he was quite protective of Gibbs. No, he wasn't going to give her any information unless he absolutely had to. "You won't tell her I know, will you, Ducky? About Gibbs' family, I mean."

 

"Of course not. Everything said between these tiled walls is just between the two of us, my boy." He eyed Tony with interest. "But you didn't come down here at this time of night to share secrets about Gibbs' past with an old man, did you?"

 

For the longest time Tony didn't speak, but the ME waited patiently. Eventually Tony inhaled deeply and then asked, "Will his memory come back?"

 

"It's hard to say. Possibly, in fits and starts."

 

"If Gibbs doesn't remember…any of us… If he doesn't remember what we mean to each other…I mean, that we're…friends…" Shit, this was damned hard to get out. "Is he going to react to things the same way, Ducky? Have the same feelings? Is he the same person? I mean, it's amnesia, not like his body's been invaded by an alien or anything. He's not a shell of a man with nothing inside."

 

Ducky saved him by saying, "You're asking me if emotional memory is still present and accounted for, despite the everyday memories going missing?"

 

Tony nodded.

 

"Mmm. Hard to say. In some cases, patients lose their personal identity even though they are able to learn new information and perform everyday functions normally. That isn't what you want to hear, though, is it? There is a theory that one can prompt a patient with dissociative amnesia with memories that resonate strongly, by literally shocking him into remembering."

 

Tony hung on every word Ducky uttered, trying to find some hope hidden in the medical terms that scared the shit out of him. What if Gibbs was no longer Gibbs? What if he not only didn't remember the people from his past, but also didn't care about them - couldn’t form the same attachments?

 

God, he hoped Gibbs' personality hadn't changed due to his concussion. Tony had come to rely on his boss's blunt nature and sarcastic asides. The stern words and reprimands, and the underlying knowledge that Gibbs cared about him, was what kept him in line. Kept him centered. It was like being addicted to a bad habit that was unpleasant yet familiar. Who knew what Gibbs' personality was going to be like, now he'd emerged from his coma?

 

But the ME seemed to understand what Tony was worrying about and hastened to assuage his concerns. "Anthony, from what I saw of Jethro's reactions when he initially awoke, and what Jenny told me, he is the same man. He's still Jethro. He has lost time, a good chunk of his history, and he is presently caught up once again in the loss of his wife and child. It seems to me that Jethro has been suppressing his anger - and his grief - for many years and…well, it has finally caught up with him. I doubt he can think much past that stage of his life at present."

 

Tony slumped in his chair and lowered his head to his hands. He thought - he'd assumed - that Jethro was past that. Sure, sometimes he seemed angry on the surface, but it was a smokescreen. Or it was mostly. Gibbs wasn't really that bad once he'd put his feet up and relaxed at the end of the day. Tony knew that much first-hand. If the people they dealt with every day at work and out in the field knew how tender and considerate, how full of humor and downright sexy Gibbs could be, they'd be shocked. "I thought he'd come to terms with their deaths, Ducky."

 

Ducky touched the younger man's shoulder. "He's only just come out of a coma, my boy, and is confused and probably quite afraid. He's barely had time to catch his breath. Tomorrow Captain Gelfand is bringing in another specialist and they'll be able to give us some better answers."

 

Tony nodded, knowing in his heart that Ducky wasn't just feeding him a line. He couldn’t imagine Gibbs being scared of anything, not the Gibbs he knew, but maybe the amnesia had wiped out his usual defenses.

 

Ducky said persuasively, "Tomorrow morning, when they assess Jethro, you should be there. The neurologists will want to talk to you. Perhaps you can prompt him with some personal memories…"

 

Tony's head came up in surprise. "Me? You think I should be there?" Now why would Ducky think that? There was no way Gibbs had told anyone about their relationship. Not even to Ducky. They'd agreed to keep their affair to themselves for the time being, both to keep it out of their workplace and to savor their time together in privacy. Tony didn't mind who knew about it, but Gibbs had stiffened the first couple of times the subject came up and Tony had taken the hint. No way would Jethro have told anyone they were fucking on a regular basis. Tony said slowly, "You've known him longer than me. You should be the one."

 

Ducky shook his head in disbelief. "You think I don't understand how close the two of you are to each other? That I can't see? Oh, Anthony," he said with a soft laugh. "My dear, I'm not so old that I can't see love when it's right under my nose."

 

Tony stared at the ME. Ducky knew? He knew! But they'd been so careful. Shit, Gibbs was not going to be happy about this. He'd blame Tony for letting the cat out of the bag. Appalled, Tony asked, "Am I that obvious?"

 

"No, not at all. I'm a wee bit more observant of human nature than some. You've done nothing out of line, or unseemly. But you misunderstood what I was saying. What I meant was that I could see that _Jethro_ was in love."

 

Tony stared open-mouthed at the ME for a minute. His mind raced and his heart pounded. "Jethro? You think he's in love with…?" Of all things, Tony had not imagined that Jethro felt that deeply about him. They were close, he knew that much, and they enjoyed some intense physical pleasure, but Tony never envisioned Jethro being able to feel that way about him. Was it really possible that Jethro more than cared about him? For a moment Tony's heart soared at that possibility but then he came back down to earth.

 

It was a relief, in a way, that Ducky knew they were involved. Until that moment, Tony hadn't realized how difficult it had been to hide something so important from friends. "I'm glad you know, Ducky," he said softly. "He didn't want anyone to know."

 

Ducky made a small sound in the back of his throat. "If you need anything, advice about anything… Not that I'm an authority on relationships. But I am here if you need me," Ducky offered. "Come to me and we'll talk."

 

"Thanks, I will," Tony said, meaning it. He ran a hand through his hair in an impatient gesture. "What should I do about Jethro? If he doesn't remember me, or about us, should I tell him when I go to the hospital? Should I let him figure it out on his own? I mean, when he gets back home he's gonna see my stuff lying around, anyway. He'll wonder who that second toothbrush belongs to, the Marilyn Monroe one that glows in the dark, you know?"

 

Ducky laid a calming hand on Tony's arm. "Anthony, it's all right. After you speak to him tomorrow, you can reassess the situation. There will plenty of time to put your personal things out of sight, if that's the best course of action. Then you can tell him what he means to you, gently, when he's stronger, more grounded." Tony nodded and Ducky continued, saying, "When the Director asked Jethro for information about this terrorist fellow…"

 

"Pinpin Pula."

 

"Yes. When Jethro couldn’t remember what he knew was of the utmost importance, it was as if he hit a wall. He went into complete denial. He said he didn't know who Agent Gibbs was. He didn't want to know who Agent Gibbs was, either. It's not because he doesn't care for us, my boy. According to what Dr. Gelfand and I surmised, Jethro has reverted to a time when he was still in deep mourning. He is presently suffering over the loss of his wife and little girl, as if it happened only recently, and he is very angry with himself for not being able to do anything to prevent it." After a slight hesitation, he asked, "He sought the man who was responsible, didn't he?"

 

Tony studied the ME's features and saw nothing but compassion. "If he did…I don't think…I really doubt it helped much."

 

Despite Tony's vague response, Ducky nodded. "We are both acquainted with Gibbs enough to know full well he's not the kind of man to let anyone escape punishment for such a heinous crime. At the time, no doubt he thought that it that it would provide him with some final satisfaction. Retribution. But revenge rarely does satisfy the soul," he said sadly. "Now he needs to slow down and take the time to mourn the loss of his family. Once he's come to terms with it, he'll come back to us. I'm sure of that."

 

It wasn't what Tony wanted to hear, but it was what he'd expected. It did help to hear the ME say it aloud, though. Tony's cell phone rang. He flipped it open and said curtly, "DiNozzo," and then, "I'll be right there." He snapped the phone shut, glanced at his watch and rose quickly from his seat. "Thanks, Ducky. I need to get back to work."

 

"You come and see me, any time at all, my boy. I may not have the answers, but I'll do my damnedest to help you out. Help both of you."

 

***

 

Around midnight, when they'd exhausted all leads and couldn’t do much more until the morning, Special Agent DiNozzo told his agents to go home and get some sleep. Director Shepard had said Gibbs could have no visitors, but Tony, being Tony, ignored the implied order and headed to the hospital in Portsmouth. He was damned if he was going to wait until the morning to see Jethro, and he sure as hell wasn't going to see him under the critical gazes of a team of neurologists who didn't know Gibbs from Adam.

 

It was a long drive but traffic was light, and Tony was glad to be away from the squad room and finally heading towards Gibbs' side.

 

***

 

It was no surprise that Captain Gelfand, when caught outside Gibb's ICU room just as he was about to go off-duty, was reluctant to let Tony sit with his patient.

 

"Agent DiNozzo, I can't allow anything to upset him." The doctor must have seen Tony's disappointment because he said kindly, "I have to warn you, he probably won't awake until the morning, between his concussion and the morphine we had to administer."

 

"Then there's no way I can upset him by just sitting in there." Tony kept his tone mild despite his urgent need to damn well be in there, just to see Jethro up close, to touch him, to simply _be_ with him.

 

"I've called in another neurologist for a consultation and he'll be here in the morning. We may want to prompt Agent Gibbs' memory, but it should only be done under careful monitoring." Gelfand's voice softened with kindness. "If you come back tomorrow, after Dr. Mason and I have had time to assess him, we can see if Gibbs remembers…his recent past. You've known each other for a while?"

 

"We've worked together for five years," Tony replied quietly. He looked longingly towards Jethro's glass-walled room and thought how they'd been so much more to each other than co-workers during the past few months. When Tony turned back, he caught the doctor looking at him sharply. Even an idiot could sense he cared for Gibbs. It must have been the lack of sleep and all the worry that made him slip. He had to be more careful. Couldn’t allow anyone to guess there was more to their relationship than boss and subordinate, or that kind of friendship that often binds people who worked in law enforcement.

 

Although Tony was practiced at camouflaging his emotions, especially where his relationship with Gibbs was concerned, he was teetering on a dangerous edge and close to exposing his true feelings. It was difficult to refrain from turning back to look at Gibbs once more. Tony felt the need to be with his boss overpower what remained of his good sense. "I'd like to see him," he said in a surprisingly calm voice.

 

"You know," Dr. Gelfand said slowly, "amnesiacs respond best to people who are close to them. Tomorrow--."

 

Tony looked straight into the doctor's gray eyes and said earnestly, "I'm running an investigation, so I won't be able to come back tomorrow. This is the only chance I've got to… We're a team. It's hard to see him like this. Look, I won't stay long. I won't disturb him. I promise," he added, summoning up his most charming smile.

 

Dr. Gelfand gave in.

 

*** end chapter 2 ***


	3. Chapter 3

Gibbs gave a small groan and turned his head a little towards Tony, but he didn't open his eyes. Tony wondered how much morphine they'd pumped into the ex-Marine to keep him down. A couple of days earlier, when they'd stood over the still-comatose Gibbs right here in this room, Jenny had worried aloud that Gibbs might be in pain. Tony's biggest concern at that point was that Gibbs wouldn't survive. But now his color was better and he was breathing on his own. The only sign that the sleeping man was troubled was a small furrow between his brows.

 

Tony carefully brushed his boss's gray hair back off his forehead then reclaimed his limp hand once again. The white of the pillowcase was stark in contrast to the red, peeling skin on his face and neck. Gibbs had, apparently, been awake and mobile enough at some point earlier that day to shave the hair off the sides of his head. He'd left the top a little longer in a military cut that came somewhere between a fade and a Gibbs-version of the high and tight. Once a Marine, always a Marine.

 

Some of the red patches on Gibbs' face were pretty raw, but he had already healed since the first time Tony had seen him unconscious and intubated. That had been scary. He had joked with Jenny about giving Gibbs the coffee he always craved through an IV, their banter being a way to stave off some of the fear that hovered just beneath the surface. Tony had almost lost it when Jenny's voice had broken in concern over the unconscious man, but he'd put on his best face and managed to hold his feelings on a tight rein.

 

Tony had been afraid that the depth of his concern would be apparent to the Director, or to Ducky, who was usually too astute for comfort. But both they and the doctor were too preoccupied with the patient to notice that Tony's casual pose was all a sham. He had crossed his arms in order to stop his hands from shaking, he was so upset to see Gibbs lying in the hospital bed, so still, so damaged, so unlike the vital man he knew and loved.

 

Shaking off the anxiety that the memory caused, Tony stroked Gibbs' arm. It brought him a small measure of comfort that he could finally touch Gibbs. Had it only been a couple of nights ago that they'd shared dinner and sex before they'd headed out on a night investigation of the recently docked _Bakir Kamir_. It felt like a lifetime ago, as if it was a memory from another era. He just wanted things to be as they were, back to normal. So why did this bad feeling stick in his gut, warning him that things would never be the same again?

 

"You look like you went on a Spring break bender and fell asleep on Daytona Beach," Tony told Jethro in a low voice. Gibbs' lips moved and for a second Tony thought his boss had heard him. He leaned over the bed, squeezing the injured man's hand encouragingly. "C'mon, Jethro. You don't want me to stick sunglasses on you and carry you around like in _Weekend at Bernie's_ , do you? 'Cause if you don't wake up soon, I'll do it. You know I will. I'll get Probie to help."

 

Tony was glad it was the middle of the night, that there was hardly anyone around, and that he could simply be close to the man he cared so deeply about. For now that was all he could expect. Within a couple of hours he had to return to work and to the investigation.

 

The nurse came in every now and then, fiddled with the monitors and tubes, and then left as unobtrusively as she'd entered. The last time she'd ghosted in, she'd asked Tony if she could heat up the coffee he'd brought with him, and when she brought it back a short time later the rich aroma filled the sterile room.

 

When Jenny had informed the team that Gibbs' memory was fried and he recalled nothing of the past fifteen years, Tony had felt disbelief and then a surprisingly intense pain. Then he'd scoffed at the idea. Damn it, no way could Jethro forget about him. It wasn't possible. He'd wake up in the morning and everything would be back to normal. But then he remembered that Gibbs didn't even remember Ducky, for God's sake. That alone was a very bad sign.

 

Leaning over the hospital bed, Tony allowed himself to bring Gibbs' hand up to his cheek as he whispered, "You'd never forget about me, about _us_ , would you, Jethro?" Even as he said the words aloud, there came a sharp stab of fear that Gibbs might never regain his memory of the past fifteen years. Who knows what was going on in the brain of his? He'd been hit damned hard by the explosion. It wasn't Gibbs' first concussion, either, not by a long shot. Doc said there'd been another bad one, years ago during Desert Storm.

 

Gibbs so rarely let any details about his past slip out that Tony stored away each and every piece he gleaned over the years, just like he saved the many medals and awards his boss had accumulated during his time at NCIS, yet had never accepted. Tony decided he'd just have to help Gibbs out by telling him what he needed to know in order to catch up with the present.

 

Still, because of everything he'd shared with the man, Tony was hopeful that Gibbs would open those blue eyes of his and look at him with recognition. He had to, just _had_ to remember him. They'd worked together almost every day for five years, for Chrissake, and had been more than co-workers for the past few months. Much more, ever since Kate was killed. No way would Gibbs forget their shared memories.

 

***

 

Jethro had made it clear from the start that he didn't want anyone to know about his relationship with Tony. "No point in giving anyone ammunition against either of us," was the way he put it. Tony had wheedled a bit, but Gibbs had no give in him on the subject. So they'd kept it quiet and at first Tony had enjoyed sneaking around, making love whenever they could squeeze it in, urgent and illicit. It was their secret.

 

No way was Tony ever going to jeopardize his position on Gibbs' team by kissing and telling, and Gibbs had no trouble keeping their relationship close to the vest. They were both well aware what discovery could mean - anything from dismissal to transfer to some ugly homophobic reprisal. He'd had a taste of that in the past. He not only didn't want to deal with it ever again but he didn't want Gibbs to be hurt.

 

But things hadn't been going well recently. Being together in their own little world had its payoff, of course. It gave them a special and common bond that was theirs alone. Being on guard when they were at work wasn't particularly hard for Tony but when they were off-duty and in the company of friends, and he had to repress his feelings, it felt like they were lying. Just a week earlier Tony had asked Gibbs, cautiously, if they could tell Ducky, or maybe Abby. Gibbs' answer was an adamant "No."

 

If Tony thought back to the point at which they'd started to have trouble in their budding relationship, he'd say it was after he'd gone undercover as an assassin alongside Ziva. Gibbs had been… well… jealous wasn't the right word, but he'd made it clear he didn't want Tony getting that close to anyone else on the team. Possessive was a more accurate term. That implied ownership without love, an exertion of power tempered by an underlying insecurity.

 

But Gibbs wasn’t insecure, thought Tony. He was strong and sure of his feelings even if he didn't talk openly about them. He was a man who knew what he wanted and he made it clear that he wanted Tony in his bed. It was good, damned good, thought Tony with a smile, but it just didn't feel like love to him. Not that Tony could honestly say he'd ever been deeply in love. Not before he'd fallen hard for Gibbs, anyway.

 

Tony still went over to Ziva's place to watch a movie with her once a week or so, as their schedule allowed. She was surprisingly adept at understanding the foreign films he wanted to view, the ones that nobody else would watch with him. Nothing cleared a room faster than inviting people to watch a German Expressionist film, but Ziva always stayed the course. He liked her company but their relationship outside of work was pretty much limited to a mutual appreciation of obscure or foreign films. They might pepper their conversations with innuendo and friendly insults, but neither of them took it any further. Tony had a feeling she didn't want to rock the boat.

 

Gibbs had made it clear that he didn't like Tony spending time at Ziva's place. They'd had words about it after Gibbs eventually stated that it wasn't Tony he didn't trust, but Ziva - at least so far as Tony went. He sounded jealous. It was the first time Tony had seen that side of Jethro, although he'd shown his protective side from the day Tony had joined NCIS.

 

"It's only a movie, Jethro. I like to watch with someone and you hate the movies I pick. You start snoring after the opening credits. Besides, this is Ziva you're talking about." He gave a derisive huff. "It's not like she's gonna make any moves on me," he said with a roll of his eyes. He pointed out that Gibbs trusted the woman with his life every day. How could he think that she, or Tony, for that matter, would do anything to break that trust?

 

But Jethro dug in his heels and they quarreled. Or it would be more accurate to say that Tony quarreled because he did most of the talking. And shouting. "Like the other night. You refused to watch _Send Me An Angel_ with me."

 

"It was an Israeli movie, Tony."

 

"It had subtitles."

 

"In Hebrew!"

 

"At least you could have watched it for the man-on-man action." The film was about letting go of past loves and preconceptions and he hated that Ziva understood it and Gibbs wouldn’t even give it a chance. "Ziva watched it with me," Tony said even though he knew damn well it was the wrong thing to say.

 

Gibbs stood there with an inflexible look on his face and once Tony had finished he'd asked, "You going to show me you're serious about us, DiNozzo? Because I get the idea this is all some game to you." He'd moved in close and spoke in a low, gruff voice that under normal circumstances would have been a big turn-on for Tony. "Because I will not share you with anyone else. If you want Ziva then you damn well move in with her."

 

Hurt that Gibbs thought he wasn't in it for the long run, Tony retorted, "Are you ready to tell our friends that we're together now?" The reply was an unrelenting look from those blue eyes that showed not a single ounce of give. As a result Tony left, slamming the door behind him, angry beyond reason at both Gibbs and himself.

 

Over the next couple of days, Tony was torn between sticking to his guns and being almost desperate to smooth the frown that marred Gibbs' brow - the one that showed up every time he pretended not to be aware that Tony was standing near him in the squad room, or deepened when they sat at their respective desks, heads down, studiously avoiding each others' eyes. It was painful to endure, and the ache in his heart got so bad that Tony finally gave in and turned up at Gibbs' house with a pizza and a plea for reconciliation. The pizza, needless to say, got cold, and the sex was hot.

 

***

 

They made up with an almost desperate session of sex, and then returned to their normal pattern of living, still without any words of commitment. Tony knew he couldn’t force a declaration out of Gibbs, but he could do his part to show him he was serious about their relationship.

 

Before their quarrel Tony had never stayed the entire night at Gibbs' house. He'd rise sometime in the early hours and return to his own place, get a couple hours of sleep and a change of clothing. Then it was off to work and another day acting as if there was nothing more between him and his boss than a work relationship. Gibbs had never asked Tony to stay the entire night before, but from the moment they made up he indicated he wanted Tony to remain by his side, holding onto him when he started to leave their warm bed.

 

Slowly but surely Tony left more of his belongings strewn around Gibbs' house, took over a portion of a closet, and pushed for a bigger TV and a cable connection. Gibbs accepted the changes without resistance, and seemed to be genuinely happy whenever Tony and he were able to sleep in, lazily entwined in a tangle of heavy limbs.

 

Only now the initial bloom had worn off, Tony wanted more than just sex, and he was more than willing to do anything to make their relationship work in the long run. He reasoned that due to his long track record of short-term and failed affairs, at least he knew what _not_ to do. He was smart enough to learn from his mistakes.

 

This wasn't a fleeting involvement for Tony, and was sure that Gibbs felt the same even though the older man had never actually said he'd commit. He had never said he loved Tony, not in words, not yet, though he showed it in so many ways. Tony knew it was only time before his lover came around and spoke aloud what was vividly apparent in his eyes.

 

***

 

Gibbs always got what he wanted, and Tony was pleased to give it to him. Okay, maybe Gibbs didn't _always_ get what he wanted, mostly because Tony was pretty good at reading the man by now and wasn't above working him in subtle ways. But Jethro was as stubborn as anyone Tony'd ever met. He found it a challenge to test the older man, mentally and physically, and even if Tony lost a skirmish, he figured he ended up winning in the end. Like after wrestling for the top position, when Gibbs pressed Tony to submit to him in bed. Tony fought back hard and didn't pull his punches so when Jethro overwhelmed him and took him roughly, Tony relished the surrender. When they finally came together the sex was good - mind-blowingly good, Tony thought with a smile.

 

Gibbs kept a big chunk of his life to himself. Although he'd told Tony something of his life with Shannon and his daughter, and had briefly mentioned their deaths and the aftermath, that was a period of Gibbs' life that was off-limits. If he volunteered something in conversation, that was fine, but Tony never pressed. He knew his limits as far as Gibbs went. There were some lines that even he dared not cross.

 

Yet despite keeping their lives secret and separate from friends, when they came together it was as if nobody else existed. The whole world may have been out there, insistently banging on their door for attention, but when they bunkered down inside the cocoon of their own making the two men were oblivious to anything but each other and their mutual pleasure. Tony knew he loved Leroy Jethro Gibbs with his entire being, and he was never going to let what they had slip away, no matter what.

 

*** end chapter 3 ***

 


	4. Chapter 4

Tony lifted Gibbs' hand to his nose and inhaled. It was faint, but underneath the smell of antiseptic and residual chemical odor from the bombing was the indefinable scent that was Gibbs. God, how he missed him already and they'd only been separated for a couple of days. "Come back to us, Jethro," Tony murmured. "Come back to me." Then the hand moved within his grasp as Gibbs took in a big breath and shifted in his bed.

 

Gibbs' eyes opened, and with a series of slow blinks slowly focused on Tony. The muscles of Gibbs' face tautened and for a few seconds a frantic look appeared in his eyes, still bloodshot from the percussion of the blast.

 

Tony smiled encouragingly. "It's all right. It's me…Tony. Take it easy, take it slow." Above the bed he could see the heart monitor; the blips jumped at a frantic pace, then calmed down a little. Tony hoped the nurse didn't see it and come running, not right now. Gibbs' eyes darted around the dimly lit ICU room, but his gaze returned to Tony, who laid a gentle hand on the older man's chest.

 

Gibbs must have assessed the man hovering over his bedside as being a friend, or at least not an enemy. After a moment he relaxed back into his pillow. "You're…?" Gibbs' lips tried to form another word but he gave up and closed his eyes, as if the attempt to speak exhausted him. When he opened his eyes once again, they were focused and determined, the haze of the morphine that had been forced upon him slowly dissipating. Gibbs said in a scratchy voice, "I know you."

 

Those three words teetered somewhere between a question and a statement, but Tony took them as a positive sign. "I'm Tony."

 

Gibbs' eyes narrowed a fraction as if he was trying to place Tony. Then the wounded man said cautiously, "We work together."

 

It was another half-statement, and with sudden insight and deep disappointment that physically hurt, Tony realized it was Gibbs' way of covering up for his memory loss. He didn't remember. He didn't know who Tony was, didn't have any recall of their lovemaking or their good times or even that God-awful fight they'd had only a few weeks ago.

 

"I'm Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo," he prompted with a smile. //Please say you remember me, Jethro. Show me you remember.// Tony reached for a cup and filled it with water while he worked at covering up his dismay. //You're being selfish, DiNozzo. If he can't remember you, well, it's not like he can remember _anyone_. It's not personal. Talk to him. Show him you're his friend. It'll come with time.// He stuck a straw in the cup and turned back to Gibbs so quickly that for a fraction of a second he caught the man looking him up and down, assessing him. Tony almost made a crack about his ass being given the once-over, but held it back. Now was not the time to joke around. He helped Gibbs drink some water, then put the cup to one side once he was finished.

 

"Yeah, we work together." Tony perched on the edge of the hospital bed. He could see that Gibbs had no recall of working with him, but he smiled smoothly. "Been five years now. You've taught me a lot, Boss."

 

Gibbs' gaze dropped to the badge clipped to Tony's belt, then to his gun, holstered on his hip. "Cop?"

 

Taken aback, Tony laughed. "I don't think any NCIS agent would appreciate being called a cop. We're Federal investigators."

 

The blue eyes remained fixed on Tony, as if seeking some kid of confirmation. "But you're a cop."

 

"I was."

 

Gibbs nodded once, satisfied. "Some things you can't shake. You're still a cop."

 

Tony conceded with a bow of his head. "I guess I am, at heart. Just like once a Marine, always a Marine." He saw Gibbs' eyes cloud over with some memory, and knew it was his past, once more, reaching out to draw him in. Tony quickly said, "Everyone in the Yard is pulling for you. It looks like I can safely tell them you're going to make a speedy recovery."

 

Gibbs blinked, clearing his vision, then elbowed his body into a higher position. Tony was quick to put an extra pillow behind the man and raise the head of the bed to a more comfortable angle. He could feel Jethro's eyes on him the whole time, and although Tony wanted to ask him a dozen questions, for the moment he held off. He wanted to give his boss a chance to get used to his presence, hopefully to remember him.

 

"What do want from me?"

 

Tony sent Gibbs a puzzled look. "Want from you? Nothing. I'm here to see how you're doing."

 

Gibbs turned his head to view the wall clock above the door. "It's two in the morning."

 

 Tony shrugged. "Just wanted to make sure you're okay."

 

Gibbs wasn't buying it. He shifted in the bed and glowered at Tony. "Don't give me that bullshit. You're the soft sell, come to get answers out of me."  He said louder, "You're like that Director--"

 

"Jenny Shepard," Tony cued quietly.

 

"Yeah, her. She wanted me to ID some photos. I told her I couldn’t remember anything--." Gibbs' face reddened and the little lights on the monitors did a dance, making Tony afraid they'd set off an alarm any minute.

 

Gibbs swallowed and visibly reined in his anger about how that scene with Jenny had played out, how his frustration had risen to a boiling point and he'd been sedated as a result of it. In a forced but calmer tone he said, "If you're here to give me the third degree, you're outta luck, cop." The glare he gave Tony was severe as was possible from a man in a hospital bed, just awakened from a coma, his head wrapped in bandages.

 

Tony chuckled softly at Gibbs being Gibbs and using his glare as a weapon. It was a relief, in a strange way, to be on the wrong end of that harsh glower. When Gibbs' eyes narrowed in annoyance, Tony raised one hand. "Hey, I'm not here to interrogate you, Boss."

 

"Don't call me that."

 

Tony crossed his arms. "Okay, but you'll always be Boss to me, even if you can't remember that. You'll figure it out eventually, that you're the boss in your future…which is my past." Tony suddenly grinned. "Hey, this is like _The Terminator_ , going forward in time in order to have sex with Sarah Connor so she'd have his kid who'd grow up to be his best friend back in _his_ future and _her_ past. Or was it her future? And to bring down Skynet." He cocked his head at Gibbs' nonplussed look. "Now, Gibbs, I _know_ you've seen _The Terminator_. Linda Hamilton, what a hardbody she was in the T2 version. Edward Furlong, you know, when he was just a kid, before _American History X_? Reshaping the future by changing the past." Tony put on a deep, announcer-like voice. "'The plan required something that felt no pity. No pain. No fear. Something unstoppable.'" He laughed. "Now if that doesn't sound like a good description of our Very Special Agent Gibbs, leader of the A-Team, I don't know what does."

 

Gibbs leaned slightly away from Tony and stared at him askance. "Are you always like this?"

 

Tony turned innocent eyes on his boss. "Always like what?" He half-expected a head slap but it never came.

 

The blue eyes never left Tony's face as Gibbs tried to figure him out. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

 

No, it was obvious he didn't, but even on his best days, Gibbs let Tony run off at the mouth without paying a lot of attention to the content. "Oh. Just talking. I get like this when it's the middle of the night and I've been living on coffee for 48 hours." Tony grinned and picked up the still-hot cup of coffee from the side table and took a sip. He wasn't sure why, but he couldn't stop smiling. It was simply good to have Gibbs alive and talking, with no significant injuries. He could have been blinded or lost his hearing or significant body parts, not to mention his life, so anything that proved he was alive and kicking was fine by Tony. If he didn't have total recall, well…it would come back. He kept telling himself that. Tony noticed Gibbs' eyes were fixed on the coffee in his hand, so he raised the cup towards his boss. "You want some?"

 

Gibbs couldn’t help himself. He licked his lips in anticipation and gave a little nod.

 

"Just don't get caught drinking this or the nurse will toss me out on my ass." Tony put the hot cup in Gibbs grip, then covered his hand with his own, steadying it so the coffee wouldn’t spill. Tony slipped his other hand behind Jethro's neck and supported him while he drank. The feel of the warm skin on his palm, and the bristles of freshly shaved hair at the nape of his neck sent a rush of warmth to Tony's face. It felt like it had been a month or more since they'd been able to touch each other intimately and, despite the incongruity of the situation, Tony's dick started to harden.

 

Embarrassed at the way his body reacted with so little stimulation, and afraid that Jethro would catch on, Tony turned his body away but kept his supportive hand in place. He peered towards the nurse's station but the only nurse visible had her head down doing paperwork, from the looks of things. When he looked back at Gibbs, it was to see his boss sipping the black coffee with a blissful look on his face. "I'll bet you're glad they got my order wrong and didn't add soy milk and sweetener to it," Tony said with a grin.

 

Gibbs drank too large a mouthful and coughed as a result, so Tony warned, "Take it slow, Jethro. There's plenty of time." Soon he took the coffee away and Gibbs relaxed back into his pillow, closing his eyes.

 

After a moment, Gibbs reopened his eyes slowly, his lids heavy with exhaustion. "You're real bossy, aren't you?"

 

Tony smiled as if it was a compliment. "Learned from the best. I always wanted to know what it was like being team leader and giving orders. Now I know."

 

Gibbs asked pointedly, "What idiot went and made you the boss?"

 

Tony said with a straight face, "The same idiot who got himself blown up on the _Bakir Kamir_." He offered a look of mock surprise. "Oh, I guess that would be you, Boss."

 

"Huh! Must have been an off day."

 

The two men stared at each other for some long moments, Gibbs weighing up the younger man, Tony wondering what was going on in Gibbs' mind. Then Gibbs relaxed and said, "I can see why I chose you for my team, DiNozzo."

 

Tony grinned and said, in his best John Wayne voice, "Well, when ya want your job back, you're gonna have a damned hard time prying the keys to the kingdom outta my cold, dead fingers."

 

Gibbs sent a puzzled look his way, so Tony elaborated. "'For one more day as a king of your world

I'd give a kingdom, for one more day.'" Then, "It's a song, Jethro." He shrugged. "You'll be demanding those keys back quicker than it takes for you to reload your Sig." He was going to continue talking to Jethro but could see that he was about to fall asleep at any second. Tony drank from the half-empty cup of coffee, fancying he could taste a hint of Jethro on the brim. Once it was empty Tony tossed the cup into the garbage, turned to his jacket draped over the bedside chair, and brought out an envelope.

 

Gibbs widened his eyes, slightly alarmed, expecting Tony to show him another photo of a terrorist's face that he could not identify, no matter how vital it was that he remembered. Instead, the photo that Tony pulled out was small, a four-by-six, the image depicting a red-haired woman and a girl of about eight. Tony cleared his throat. "I thought you might want to have this."

 

Gibbs took the photo gingerly, as if it was fragile. "Got it from your home, Boss," Tony said, so quietly that Gibbs barely heard him. Gibbs stared at the photograph and ran a finger over it, tracing the faces, his eyes lingering on the happy image of his wife and daughter. Emotions flitted across his face - happiness, then realization, and finally loss and desolation.

 

Tony wanted to wrap his arms around Jethro and rock his sadness and loss away, to take him out of this cold hospital and warm him up in his own home, to lie with him in the comfort of the bed they shared together. He wanted to hold Jethro so close he'd never escape, never be harmed again. He wanted to be physically close in the hope that it would somehow compel him to remember that there was joy in the world, and that there was something special between them that only the two of them shared, that he was safe and loved, just _loved_.

 

He couldn't make out if Jethro's eyes were tearing up but he was pretty sure they were and his own had a pricking feeling behind them. Hell, he'd be crying any minute now if he didn't do something about it. Tony swallowed down the lump in his throat, laid a hand on Jethro's shoulder and gave him an all-too-brief hug. "I have to go. You get some sleep. I'll find a way to see you tomorrow, Boss." He grabbed his coat and headed quickly for the door.

 

Jethro's voice calling out stopped Tony on the threshold. "Wait…"

 

Tony hovered but didn't look back. "Yeah, Boss?"

 

Jethro said in a voice that cracked slightly with emotion, "Thanks."

 

*** end chapter 4 ***

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

As he promised, Tony returned to the hospital the next morning but when he saw Jethro was out of bed, standing unsteadily with his hands on the shoulders of a gray-haired man, he stopped in his tracks. Tony didn't need to be told that the man supporting Jethro was Mike Franks. Tony had never met him, but he'd checked Franks' background a few months back, after Jethro had first mentioned his former boss. Tony already knew a lot about the ex-NIS Major Response Team leader, and now, even from twenty feet away, through the glass wall that partitioned Gibbs' room from the hallway, Tony could see the two men shared a rare affection and respect. He could also see the way Gibbs was reacting to Franks with a smile. But best - and worst - of all, it was painfully obvious to Tony that Gibbs remembered his old partner.

 

Not wanting to intrude, and suddenly feeling very out of place, Tony backed away and quickly left the hospital.

 

***

 

The remainder of the day Tony was kept busy, following leads, keeping a leash on Ziva while she interrogated Captain Mahir of the _Bakir Kamir_. He dealt with intel coming in from various agencies and coordinated the inter-departmental investigation, and reported their findings to Director Shepard.

 

Ducky's final forensic report, and the Turkish captain's confession, led them to know for a fact that Pinpin Pula had taken over Agent Galib's identity, had then set off the bomb on the _Bakir Kamir_ , and was now on the loose. It turned out that the man Gibbs had chased into the laundry room on the _Bakir Kamir,_ the man who had set off the bomb that had narrowly missed killing Gibbs,had duped them all into believing he was a government agent. Tony now believed that the terrorist had realized that Gibbs had caught on to his true identity and purpose, and was closing in on him - and so Pula had set the bomb to eradicate the NCIS agent.

 

Director Shepard called in other agencies to work with NCIS and they hurriedly inspected the rosters of the ships' crewmen obtained from SeaLift, working as a team to locate the missing terrorist. They narrowed it down - Pula was either on the _Cape Fear_ or the _Cape Horn_.

 

Tony's new level of responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders and he occasionally wondered 'what would Gibbs do?' until he came to understand that he could not afford to second-guess his choices. Despite the Director's supervision from her office above, it was up to him, and him alone, to make the final decision on important matters, based upon his experience as an investigator and a field agent. Lives were riding on his judgment. He had to accept that this was what Gibbs had trained him to do over the past few years, and if he couldn't do the right thing then he shouldn't even be at the helm.

 

***

 

Tony was dozing at his desk when he got the phone call. It was Ziva on the other end of the line, which was disconcerting because when he had shut his eyes only a short time ago, she had been sleeping soundly at her desk, opposite his. Tony glanced at his watch. Shit, that was an hour ago. It was now almost five AM.

 

Ziva was shouting something into her end of the receiver. Tony ordered, "Slow down, Ziva! You what?"

 

McGee, who had also been asleep at his desk, jumped to his feet, saying loudly, "On it, Boss," even though his eyes were only half open. He looked around, befuddled, and quickly caught onto what was going on. He stayed on his feet and asked worriedly, "Is it Gibbs?"

 

"I got Gibbs to remember," Ziva said slowly and clearly. Tony heard her swear at something in Hebrew and he realized she was driving. There was a muffled voice and he knew it was Gibbs. He was there, with her, in Ziva's car.

 

Tony sat up straight, wide awake now. "Where are you?"

 

"I'm coming in. I'm bringing Gibbs in, Tony. He remembers!"

 

"He remembers? Everything?"

 

From the passenger seat Gibbs was saying something to Ziva, and although the words were inaudible to Tony, it was a relief to hear his distinctive speech. Ziva then said clearly into the phone, "He remembers _enough_."

 

***

  
Tony was more than relieved to see Jethro walk across the squad room under his own power, with little indication in his gait that he'd been blown up a few days earlier and had just risen from a hospital bed. His face was ruddy and still raw in places, but his eyes blazed blue, lit with motivation to put a permanent stop to Pinpin Pula's acts of terrorism. There was more in those eyes; there was some apparent recognition of the people he encountered, even if he called Tony 'McGee'.

 

Gibbs stopped partway up the stairs on his way to MTAC, but only long enough to take a look at the side-by-side images of Galib and Pinpin Pula displayed on the plasma. "I should have known it wasn’t Galib," he said with frustration rendering his voice sharp.     

The team members gave him a little slack due to his injuries and they all assured Gibbs that he couldn’t have known that Pula had killed Galib, stole that agent's identity, and duped Gibbs when they met face-to-face. Tony said, "I’d have made the same mistake."    

  
Gibbs sent him a look that told Tony a lot about what the man was going through. Gibbs was happy to be back in the swing of things, and felt the kind of relief that comes from being given a second chance. "Well yeah, DiNozzo. I know. That’s why I’m so pissed!" Gibbs slapped Tony's head as a way of punctuating his words, and gave him a crooked smile, then was on his way up the next tier of steps.      
    
"You didn’t forget me!" Tony cried, finding some of the weight he'd been carrying around lifting.     
 

***

 

Despite the Director's best efforts to keep a lid on the situation, word trickled down fast that Deputy Director Welsh had sacrificed the people on the Navy frigate _Victorious_ , as well as those on the _Cape Fear,_ to Pinpin Pula's final, deadly act of terrorism. Gibbs' strong reaction to Welsh's treachery and stupidity spread quickly throughout the squad room, and it was no surprise to Tony that their colleagues agreed with and supported Gibbs to the end.

 

McGee, Ziva and Tony never said a word about what they had witnessed in MTAC, but their feelings were expressed in their eyes whenever they looked at each other. None of them had never seen Gibbs so livid. Tony felt the same deep anger that Gibbs did, only he was able to keep a lid on his feelings better than his boss did. A sense of failure washed over Tony even though the entire agency had worked every angle and they had done everything in their power to locate the terrorist. The bottom line was that they hadn't been able to neutralize Pinpin Pula in time and people - good people - had died.

 

***

 

They waited for what felt like hours. When Gibbs finally emerged from Director Shepard's office the sun was coming up. The sky was colored with shades of pink and orange, bringing the promise of a fine day. The rain of the past few days had finally stopped.

 

Gibbs headed for his desk and opened his drawer, seeking his firearm.

 

Tony jumped up and went to Gibbs' side. "Oh, I got them, Boss. I got them from the medics when they took you." It wasn't until Tony handed his boss his gun and badge that he saw the look in Gibbs' eyes. It was right then, in that heart-stopping moment, that Tony knew, _just knew_ , that Gibbs had been defeated by the deaths he'd been unable to prevent aboard the _Cape Fear_. Never in all his days could Tony have imagined he'd see Gibbs like that, with bitterness and disappointment and barely-disguised contempt for everything he'd believed in, so close to the surface. It was as strong as a physical blow, and it left Tony unable to respond when his boss clamped a strong hand on his shoulder and said, "You'll do. It's your team now."

 

***

 

Tony sat in his car outside Gibbs' house, waiting for Ducky to emerge. Dusk fell rapidly and the streetlights turned on, then one by one the neighbors turned their porch lights on to welcome their owners home. For the longest time Gibbs' house remained dark and then, when a light went on in the living room, it startled Tony.

 

He was still in shock over Gibbs leaving with barely a word of goodbye to anyone in the squad room, and no word of explanation as to what he was planning or where he was going. There was so much tension in the air nobody came out and asked if his leave was going to be as permanent as it appeared to be.

 

To be fair, Gibbs should have still been in the hospital, considering everything he'd been through, and he was due time off to recoup both his strength and his mental resources. But Gibbs' expression when he'd left the squad room, stepping into the elevator with Ducky with a defiant, "Semper fi," had seemed so final. Tony was scared shitless that his boss was going to take a hike and keep on walking.

 

***

 

Ducky was still inside Gibbs' home.

 

From where he sat in his parked car, Tony caught an occasional glimpse of a shadow flitting across the partially drawn blinds of the large window at the front of the house. The car was getting cold, but Tony was patient. In fact, he felt surprisingly calm considering he didn't have a clue what he was going to do or say once he faced Gibbs. Tony was definitely going to confront him, to ask the questions he hadn't been able to, back at NCIS when they were awkwardly saying good-bye in front of the other agents' curious eyes. And to find out how much Gibbs really remembered.

 

Gibbs had handed out sparse good-byes and told Tony, "You'll do," as if that was sufficient. Then he'd walked out. Just walked out on them! No word about where he was going or for how long.

 

Jethro Gibbs was the kind of man who would assume it was better for him to deal with things in his own solitary fashion. Tony would bet that Gibbs would move ahead without too much introspection, licking his wounds in private, keeping busy, never considering for one moment that people were worrying about him, or that they wanted to stand by him and ease his way. Gibbs had just cast his team aside as if they were of no use to him wherever he was going. Tony, who would do anything for Gibbs, would not just let his boss - the man he cared about more than anyone else in the world - walk out like that, with so little regard for what they'd had, for what they'd meant to each other on a personal level, for what their future might hold.

 

Tony was damned if he was just going to watch Gibbs walk out of his life. He usually gave in to Gibbs, and often stepped aside out of deference for the older man, but this time he was going to fight for what he wanted and for what he believed in with his entire heart.

 

*** end chapter 5 ***

 


	6. Chapter 6

Minutes after Ducky left, Tony strode with purpose up to the front door of Gibbs' craftsman-style house, a pharmacy bag grasped in his hand. He tapped on the door then let himself in without waiting for an invitation. The lights were so low it took a few seconds before he saw Gibbs sitting in a worn easy chair, leaning forward with his head in his hands.

 

In the shadows next to Gibbs' chair was a canvas travel bag, apparently not packed, from the looks of it. Not yet, thought Tony. Where's he running off to? To stay with family? Did Gibbs even have any family members he'd consider visiting?  He never talked about relatives, though his dossier listed mother, deceased; father, alive…somewhere. Heading off to warmer climes, most likely. Franks, who had retired to Mexico, had now turned up and was once again an influence in Gibbs' life. Marines stuck together. Semper fi all over again. Tony's heart sank at that thought.

 

"You forgot these, Boss," Tony said quietly, not wanting to startle him. He held out the white paper bag and waited to see if Gibbs was going to acknowledge his presence.

 

Gibbs looked up slowly, his eyes strikingly blue even in the near-dark living room. For a second it seemed that he had no idea who Tony was or what he was doing standing there, but then he sighed and made a vague motion with his hand towards the coffee table. "There."

 

"Don't you want to know what's in the bag?"

 

Gibbs gave a slight jerk of his head to indicate he didn't care.

 

Tony opened the bag and pulled out a prescription bottle and a tube of silvadene. He carefully set them down on the table. "Dr. Gelfand sent them over by courier. Said you'd forgotten them when you left in the hospital such a hurry. Guess he doesn't approve of his patients taking off in the middle of the night."

 

"First Ducky, now you," Gibbs muttered under his breath. "Don't need any pills."

 

There was no cause for concern if Gibbs decided he didn't want to take the pain meds. Tony deduced that Gibbs' tense shoulders indicated he was feeling some pain, though with Gibbs it was sometimes difficult to tell how bad it was. "You need the ointment was for your burns," Tony said gently.

 

The concussive effect of being blown up wreaked havoc with joints and your back, as Tony knew all too well. He remembered the way his entire body had ached as a result of being battered by the explosion of a car bomb set by Ari a year ago. Of course that injury had come before he'd completely recovered from the plague.  Tony decided not to press the issue; there would be other skirmishes worth fighting later on.

 

After a brief hesitation, Tony reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a flat leather box. "Your medals," he said casually. Gibbs looked at the box with lack of interest, but Tony wasn't giving up. "I know you never liked being awarded these medals, or being in the limelight, Boss, but every time you got one, the whole team was really proud." Tony had grabbed one of several presentation boxes from the bottom drawer of his desk before heading over to Gibbs' house to prove a point, but now he wasn't sure that he was going to be able to get through to Gibbs.

 

Gibbs sat back in his chair with a sigh and turned his head away. He looked like a man who had no energy or impetus to carry on, a man who had lost something of himself and didn't know how to proceed. It was enough to make Tony's chest grow tight. He wanted, so badly, to wrap his arms around Jethro and make it all better, but somehow he repressed the raw emotion that threatened to break free and said softly, "If you don't know how much you mean to us by now, Jethro, then frankly you're either stupid of being willfully blind."

 

Gibbs looked out the window at the quiet neighborhood, alight with warm, amber streetlights. At first he seemed to have not heard but then Tony saw his boss swallow hard and blink a couple of times. Maybe he was getting through to him, after all.

 

Tony pressed harder, saying, "I know that you're dedicated and loyal and a damned good agent, Gibbs. You're someone worth following and learning from. Someone I care about." Tony couldn’t hold back any more and his voice quaked slightly as he said, "God, I learned everything from you, Boss, and you made me care about the job and about you, and…if it hadn't been for you giving me that first chance, who knows where I would have ended up? Because of you I have a career and a future and a life I never imagined I'd have."

 

Gibbs bowed his head and didn't respond, but Tony had a feeling he was striking a chord with his words, so he continued. "Look, all I want is for you to know that we care…I care. I don't want you to think any of this was a waste or that you didn't make a difference, because you did. There's one less terrorist out there because we all worked together to bring him down. And you make a difference every single day you are out there, to all those people you help, to the whole team. I know that what happened today was a terrible blow, with the frigate, and Welsh's command to–"

 

"No!" Gibbs shook his head sharply, but he didn't look Tony's way. He was breathing hard when he said in a low voice. "I can't…Just…just go, DiNozzo."

 

Tony stood there, stock-still for a long moment then he released a huff of a laugh. "That's the best you can do? Tell me to go? Uh, I don't think so. You can't get rid of me that easily." He quickly peeled off his trench coat and then his suit jacket and dropped them on the couch. Taking a firm hold of Jethro's arm he pulled the surprised man to his feet. "You didn't eat anything, did you?" His tone was the same as a fond yet scolding mother. "Didn't Ducky get you some food? Coffee? I'll bet that's half your problem – caffeine withdrawal."

 

Gibbs glared at him and resisted for a few seconds, but then allowed himself to be steered towards the kitchen. "Not hungry," Gibbs said testily.

 

Half-smiling at Gibbs grumpy response, Tony said, "Here, you sit while I find some food. Ducky probably offered you clear soup and Jell-O. That crap's for invalids. It sure won't put hair on your chest."

 

Moving slowly as if he was exhausted, Gibbs did as he was told and sat at the large kitchen table. It was a relic from the 70s, and the chairs were about as uncomfortable as any Tony had ever sat upon. The woodwork in the kitchen, however, bore the mark of a good carpenter. Gibbs had refinished the cabinets with the same kind of care and attention to detail that he put into his boat. Trust Gibbs to care more about the finish of the wood than he did about replacing the out-of-date décor.

 

Tony rifled around in the kitchen cupboards and pulled out what he needed to make a quick dinner, talking all the while. "I swear that the moment you get back, we're going shopping. We're going to replace that ugly table and even-uglier plastic chairs with a nice wooden farmhouse table and seating that you don't stick to whenever it gets hot. Maybe you can build the table from reclaimed wood or something. Put that on your list. How did people stomach the 70s with avocado-color Formica, macramé plant holders and those mirror-and-cork squares stuck to the walls?" Tony gave an exaggerated shudder. "Hey, look, there's still one can of Dinty Moore that I bought last month when we stocked up. I coulda sworn we ate them all. Didn't we take them on that camping trip you dragged me along on? " He opened the can of stew and dumped the contents in a saucepan, then set it on to heat.

 

Gibbs didn't turn a hair when Tony mentioned being the one to buy groceries, or about the camping trip, but then he wasn't reacting to much of anything. He looked bone-tired, with lines at the corners of his mouth that Tony had never seen before. This wasn't the Gibbs he knew, a spent man with no fight left in him. After dinner, he was just going to have to do something about it, Tony decided.

 

In no time at all Tony had heated up the stew, started a fresh pot of coffee, discovered some bread that was halfway fresh and placed it in the middle of the table, and poured a glass of milk for himself and a black coffee for Gibbs. He then sat down opposite Gibbs and encouraged, "You'd better eat up while it's hot, Boss, 'cause you look weaker than a wet cat. Gotta get you back in shape."

 

Although it appeared that Gibbs was too tired to eat, the aroma of the food was enticing, and eventually he picked up his spoon and sampled the hot stew. Tony casually talked about their camping trip between bites.

 

Tony had reluctantly gone into what he termed 'the wilds' with Gibbs, only to please the man, and had pretty much complained throughout the entire two days, but in the end he'd had the time of his life. He was a city boy at heart, unlike Gibbs, who seemed to thrive on rough-and-ready camping. It was on that trip, when they were under the star-scattered midnight sky miles from anything even remotely like civilization, that they had made love for the first time. They'd had sex previously, urgent and fleeting, but had never engaged in what Tony thought of as making love. That was when you took your time, got lost in the feeling, gave in and gave out completely to that special someone you cared about deeply.

 

"Hunting for our dinner, cooking on an open fire, sleeping on the bare ground…" Tony sighed with a smile. "What a time we had. Two men against the wilds. Man against beast. Survival of the fittest. Hunting, shooting, fishing."

 

Gibbs looked up from his meal with slightly narrowed eyes and spoke for the first time since they'd sat down at the table. He asked skeptically, "So now you know how to hunt, DiNozzo?"

 

"Well, no. Not exactly. I did hunt down a bottle of wine and some steaks you had hidden away in that huge backpack you lugged the twenty miles to the camp." Tony smiled guilelessly.

 

Gibbs grunted. "You say we hiked twenty miles to make this camp?"

 

"It felt like it was fifty miles, but then my new boots were giving me blisters." He pulled a face at the memory.

 

"We slept on the bare ground?" Gibbs asked with a slight challenge to his voice.

 

Tony gave a cocky smile. "We brought this really big air mattress, which I carried even though it weighed a ton, only we kept rolling off. So yes, technically, we slept on the ground. Not that we - technically - slept much." Gibbs' eyebrows rose slightly in question. Tony made a motion in the air with his spoon. "You know…" He leaned over the table and said with a suggestive smile, "Jethro, you kept fighting me for the top bunk. You remember."

 

It took a second for Gibbs' color to heighten, but he quickly lowered his head and busied himself with his food. After he swallowed a mouthful he said gruffly, "I don't remember."

 

"C'mon Jethro, you must–"

 

The blue eyes raised and honed in on Tony's laughing green ones. There was no humor in Gibbs' look. In fact he appeared to be downright hostile. He raised his spoon in a gesture that was definitely threatening. "Get this now, DiNozzo: I do _not_ remember. Not whatever it is that you're trying so hard to remind me of. Not camping or sleeping arrangements, or some medals you say I was given for doing my damned job! I don't remember!"

 

Tony persisted, "But Boss–"

 

Gibbs slammed his hand down on the table, causing the bowls to jump. "Don't!" He pushed the remains of his meal away and sat with shoulders hunched, refusing to utter another word.

 

*** end chapter 6 ***


	7. Chapter 7

When Ziva had brought Gibbs back to the Navy Yard, straight from the hospital, their boss had seemed to be functioning pretty close to normal, even if he was a little unsteady on his feet. Of course he'd called Tony 'McGee,' but Tony had pushed aside his feelings of hurt, and told himself that was just Gibbs' way of yanking his chain. That Gibbs was up and moving around at all was surprising considering how seriously he'd been injured only a few days earlier. As Abby had pointed out, their boss really shouldn't have been out of the hospital, considering his injuries. Despite his shock and anger at seeing the _Cape Fear_ explode before his eyes on the big screen in MTAC, Gibbs had soldiered on. He'd even managed to get through a long conference with the director and had given his statement as part of wrapping up the case. When he'd said his good-byes and walked out of NCIS, it was with a straight back and a sense of purpose. Or that's what it had looked like at the time.

 

Now that Tony was sitting opposite Gibbs at the kitchen table, he had to accept that all was not quite as back-to-normal with Gibbs as it had first appeared to be. Once he was back home, Gibbs had seemed defeated when he had admitted to Tony that his memory hadn't been restored as well as he'd led them to believe.

 

Tony saw the signs of exhaustion in Gibbs' face, and an air of hopelessness he'd never known Gibbs to have before. Tony, was worn down, too, from the worry of Gibbs' near-death experience and not being able to be by his side the whole time he was hospitalized, and from lack of sleep while chasing down an elusive terrorist. Seeing Gibbs sitting in front of him, so down, so unlike his usual strong self, made Tony want to take him in his arms and hold him close. He wanted to give Gibbs a shoulder to lean upon, just as Gibbs had done for Tony many times in the past.

 

Not that Gibbs ever asked for comfort straight out, not even when he was really hurting. Tony instinctively knew when Gibbs needed someone to help him bear the weight he carried on his broad shoulders, if only for a little while. Tony would be there with his arms held open wide and Gibbs would mutely accept the invitation. But now Tony had a feeling that Gibbs would push him away and he wasn't sure what to do about it.

 

While they had been sitting there, neither man talking, something in the back of Tony's mind kept needling at him, and until that moment he hadn't been able to put his finger on it. Unsure as to whether he'd be staying the night or not, Tony rose to pour himself a cup of coffee. Tony leaned against the kitchen counter and sipped on his hot coffee, studying Gibbs who was looking desolately into his coffee cup. He thought back to when he'd mentioned their camping trip as a reminder of their relationship.

 

 

Gibbs had denied any knowledge of the trip and yet he hadn't seemed surprised when Tony had pretty much said that they were lovers. Was he just numb, or hadn't it really sunk in that they were in a relationship – a homosexual one, to boot? Either way, it was odd that Gibbs hadn't reacted.

 

How was it that Gibbs couldn’t remember that he and Tony had been lovers for the past month, and how they'd been flirting with each other and sending each other signals for months prior to that? It was one thing having a potholed memory that hadn't retained getting commendations that he hadn't given a rat's ass about in the first place, but not remembering _them_?

 

Didn't he feel _any_ remnant of the love they'd shared? What about the fact they'd practically been living together, and had certainly been sleeping together for the past month – how could Jethro not remember any of that? Didn't Gibbs feel the intensity with which Tony cared for him? Didn't he sense Tony's devotion, his complete and utter love for him?

 

God, what if those feelings had been destroyed in the explosion, and Gibbs was no longer capable of loving him? What if was permanently stuck back in the early '90s, grieving for his lost wife and child, and never moved forward, into the present again? That possibility frightened Tony more than he wanted to admit. He'd always relied upon Gibbs to be there for him. Gibbs was the rock in their relationship, the partner who naturally took command. Gibbs was the one person in the world who Tony wanted to – _needed to_ – follow, at work, at home, in life.

 

Gibbs squinted at Tony with bloodshot eyes. "You still here, DiNozzo?"

 

"Haven't got any other plans for tonight." Tony wanted to make sure that Gibbs understood that he was there for him and that he wasn't planning on going anywhere. Something told Tony that he had to make an attempt to get through to Gibbs, to provoke him into remembering, and he had to do it tonight. "I'm here for you, Gibbs," Tony said, meaning it with all his heart.

 

He refilled Gibbs' mug with fresh coffee and then sat opposite him at the table again. Tony thought about the empty travel bag Gibbs had left in the living room, and he asked casually, "You planning on taking a little time off, Boss? You have some medical leave coming."

 

Gibbs sipped from his mug of steaming coffee and then said wearily, "I'm not your boss, DiNozzo."

 

"You'll always be my boss," Tony replied with a fond smile. "You know what? I think it's a great idea for you to take a vacation. You never get away. What you need is somewhere warm, with white beaches and nothing to do except swim, sail, and check out the girls in bikinis all day…just what you need."

 

A ghost of a smile touched Gibbs' lips, though when he raised his head to look straight at Tony, it was with a sober expression. "No, no bikinis, and you're fishing, DiNozzo."

 

Tony ignored the implication to mind his own business. "Oh, I don't fish, which you know all too well after that after that little camping trip we took together. When are you leaving? I'll give you a ride to the airport."

 

Gibbs seemed puzzled by Tony's enthusiasm, but said bluntly, "In the morning. Already got a ride."

 

At least Gibbs was talking, thought Tony. "Oh, so Ducky's taking you to the airport," he guessed, speaking as if he knew it for a fact. No reply was forthcoming. "Tell you what, now you're finished eating, I'll help you pack. What do you need to take? A few shirts and shorts, boat shoes and some sunblock? Maybe a paperback." Tony indicated Gibbs' burned face with a gesture. "Okay, lots of sunblock, and you have to remember to use that ointment Captain Gelfand sent over. I'll get your bag and–"

 

"I don't need any help–" Gibbs rose and Tony pushed back his chair at the same time.

 

"Now, don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Jethro. I don't offer my professional packing services to just anyone, you know, so just…let me help, okay?"

 

Tony smiled encouragingly and after a moment Gibbs relented with an ungracious, "Whatever."

 

Not one to be put off by a grumpy Gibbs, Tony grabbed the pills and ointment from the living room table, dropped them in the canvas bag and followed Jethro upstairs, noting the slow pace the older man took. No wonder Gibbs was beat, after everything he'd been through over the past few days. Jethro should still be in bed, taking care of that concussed head, resting quietly. Tony sighed inwardly. Who was he to dole out advice on after-concussion care when he didn't listen to it himself?

 

Once they were in Gibbs' bedroom, which Gibbs had no problem locating, Tony turned on the bedside light and had a quick look around. He hadn't left any evidence of his overnight stays in sight; no lube, toys or underwear to be seen. Too bad, they might have shocked Gibbs into remembering, he thought with an inward smile. Jethro stood just inside the room looking a bit lost, causing Tony to wonder, once again, how much recall he actually had.

 

"I'll get you that sunblock and you'd better throw in a hat. You have to protect your skin." Tony nodded, indicating Jethro's reddened and peeling burns from the explosion. He brushed past his boss and proceeded to make a selection of clothing from the bureau with businesslike moves that belied the apprehensive feeling that was trying its damned best to well up and overwhelm him. Everything was neat and organized, making his job easy. From the closet he pulled some short-sleeved shirts and shorts. A pair of jeans, too. They were all freshly laundered yet somehow also smelled like Gibbs. It took a lot of control for Tony not to bring a handful of Gibbs' underwear to his nose, and just thinking about it made his dick harden.

 

Ignoring the way the scent-o-Gibbs was bringing a rise to his dick, Tony held a couple of sweatshirts aloft. "Which one?" He waited for Jethro, who sat on the bed as if his back was aching, to make a choice, not really expecting him to answer.

 

Gibbs' silence was unsettling but after a pause, he indicated a hooded sweatshirt without any letters emblazoned across the chest. "I can do it myself, ya know." He made no move to help, though.

 

Tony laid out the clothes on the bed, standing close enough to Jethro that their legs brushed against each other. Tony said evenly, "Sometimes we all need to let someone else help out a little." Then he lightened his tone and said, "Besides, did I ever tell you I worked for a few weeks one Christmas at the Ralph Lauren store in Manhattan? It was when I was at college. I was staying with my cousin for the holidays and was strapped for cash. Folding cashmere sweaters was my specialty, and what a way to pick up babes. Man, talk about your choice of beautiful women." Tony smiled reminiscently and sighed. "That city has every flavor of female imaginable and they all seemed to walk through those doors that Christmastime, looking for a tight cashmere sweater and a chat with Tony DiNozzo."

 

Tony grinned as he leaned over the bed and went back to sorting through the clothes. Jethro shifted his weight a little, pressing his leg against Tony's, which Tony was certain was not an accident. Tony stood stock still, barely daring to breathe lest Jethro take it as a sign that he should move. Jethro's warmth seeped right through Tony's pants to his skin, and a wash of desire hit Tony hard. He looked down at Jethro's slightly bowed head, and even though Tony couldn’t make out his expression, he was sure that the older man was as affected by their closeness as he was.

 

There were freckles on the back of Jethro's bare neck, making him seem unusually vulnerable, and all Tony wanted to do at that moment was to press his lips to the warm flesh, to kiss every one of those freckles, to taste Jethro, to savor the scent of the man.

 

For long moments neither of them moved and then the corner of Jethro's mouth quirked. He asked, "You sampled all of those women?"

 

That was more like it, Tony thought, letting out a laugh of relief. "I tried my darnedest, Jethro." Keeping the slight physical contact with Jethro, brushing up against him, Tony started to pack the clothes in the canvas bag, but he noticed there was something already in it besides the meds he'd tossed in earlier. He reached in and pulled out a small photo album. It was a gift he had put together for Jethro, one that he'd given to him soon after they'd returned from the camping trip. Tony held it aloft. "You're taking this with you?"

 

Jethro shrugged and looked slightly embarrassed as if he'd been caught stashing a porn magazine in his luggage.

 

Tony moved the clothes and bag aside and sat on the bed, close enough for his hip and shoulders to touch Jethro's. He slowly opened the album to the first page and read the note scrawled in his own writing that he'd slipped under the clear plastic. He read it aloud. "For Jethro - memories old and some new ones, too."

 

The first few photos were small, deckle-edged black-and-whites, rescued from a shoebox he'd discovered in the guest room closet. There was Gibbs' family home; a photo of his parents when they were first married with his mother smiling sweetly and his dad straight-faced but with a twinkle in his eye like he was trying to hold back a smile; a photo in faded color of Gibbs as a ten-year-old, proudly displaying a large fish he'd caught; Jethro the teenager working on a car.

 

Then came some pictures from Gibbs' early days in the Marines, and a small formal shot of a fresh-faced Leroy Jethro in full uniform. Casual snaps of his buddies, dog-eared at the corners. Color photos of Shannon and Kelly came next, and an empty space that had held the photo of Gibbs' girls, the one that Tony had taken to Gibbs in the hospital. Then there were some other photos that Tony had chosen because he guessed they were significant in some way, not really knowing what Gibbs would like or even care about: people who might be relatives and summer vacation photos of sailing on a lake.

 

There were photos of their NCIS colleagues, too, photographed on the rare occasions they got together for a barbeque, and a few of the goofy shots Tony had taken when on the job, of McGee and Abby and Ducky.

 

There was also one that McGee had taken of Tony when he was laughing, his head thrown back, eyes almost closed. Gibbs stood directly behind Tony in the picture, and the lens caught the blur of his hand in motion just before he slapped the back of Tony's head for some infraction that was now long forgotten. Just the same, the photo brought a smile to Tony's face when he looked at it. "Some things never change," Tony mused, almost to himself.

 

It had been a risk to assemble something so personal as a surprise for Gibbs, that was taken mostly from his private collection of old photos, but it had been a success. He'd given it to Jethro after they'd enjoyed a home-cooked meal at Tony's apartment. At first Jethro hadn't said anything and Tony had been afraid he'd overstepped his bounds. But Gibbs had slowly leafed through the album, fingers sliding across some of the photographs, touching faces that stirred fond memories, smiling at a few. Then he'd looked straight at Tony with such love in his eyes that, for once, Tony hadn't been able to find any words.

 

Now Gibbs reached into his pocket and withdrew the photo of his long-gone wife and daughter that Tony had brought to him in the hospital. "Better put this back where it's safe." Tony handed Jethro the album and he slipped the photo into the empty slot and slowly flipped through the photos, sowing down when he reached those that were more recent.

 

The latter photographs included ones that Tony had taken during their camping trip. There were some images of the camp, some scenic shots, and one of Gibbs fishing. That weekend trip together was what Tony would always remember as being the time that had cemented their relationship. Jethro had rolled his eyes when Tony had declared joyfully that they were bonding but Tony knew his lover felt the same as he did, even if he was too stubborn to admit it. Something fundamental in their relationship had changed on that trip. Maybe it was getting away from work and all those outside influences, but Tony had never felt so close to another person in his adult life, so loved and safe and thoroughly happy.

 

Jethro stopped at the last photo. The horizon was at an angle, as if it had been taken hurriedly. There was Tony with a huge grin plastered across his face, knee-deep in a stream with his clothing and hair wet, holding aloft a large fish that looked mangled, with half of its body missing.

 

Tony laughed and pointed to the photo. "Man, was that water ever cold."

 

"You caught that fish…" It wasn't quite a question but Gibbs didn't seem entirely sure.

 

"Sure did. Tasted damned good, too, fried over an open fire." He leaned into Jethro, prodding him with his shoulder. "You remember the trouble I had starting the fire 'cause your Zippo was wet?"

 

"A good camper doesn't need a Zippo to start a campfire, DiNozzo."

 

"Remember?" Tony asked once again, hopefully.

 

Jethro turned his head a little and looked Tony in the eye. They were only inches away from each other, close enough so Tony could feel him breathing. Those breaths came a bit faster when Jethro said plainly, but with a hint of what could be regret, "No. I don't remember."

 

Tony waited a beat, unsure of how hard he should push the man, but feeling there was more to be said. He looked into Jethro's eyes but couldn’t make out if he was telling the truth and he wondered why he had any doubt in the first place; Jethro didn't lie. Then Tony's gaze slipped down to look at Jethro's slightly parted lips and he found his own breath hitching at the sight. "You don't remember how I was freezing from getting wet in the stream and how you made me take my clothes off so they'd dry by the fire? How we were laughing so hard about that dead fish…and how you kissed me?"

 

After they'd set up camp, Gibbs had produced an expensive fishing pole that one of his wives had bought him, and had ordered Tony to catch them some dinner. Although he'd tried his best, and he could see the fish - big ones, too - swimming close to shore, literally within reach, Tony couldn’t get a nibble. He had become so frustrated with his failure, and with Gibbs' teasing remarks, that he had pulled out his handgun and had shot one of the big suckers that was swimming around in the shallows. When retrieving what remained of the fish's body Tony had fallen in and had come up spluttering and laughing, and Gibbs had hauled him to shore and into his arms and they'd kissed for the first time.

 

"I was freezing, standing there shivering with blue lips," Tony said softly. "You kissed me, Jethro, and warmed me up." Gibbs' warm lips had met his cold, wet ones and the ensuing kiss had swept Tony away.

 

Jethro's eyes moved down to Tony's mouth and back up to meet his eyes. "I don't remember," he whispered. "Tony, I don't. I can't." The way he said it, it sounded like he was begging for forgiveness.

 

Tony leaned slightly closer to Jethro, and with their shoulders rubbing together he said in a husky voice, "I know you wouldn't forget us making love under the stars."

 

Jethro shook his head. "No."

 

Tony pursued his line of questioning. "You remember how we yelled and howled at the moon until the coyotes joined in?" Tony slowly dipped his head and when Jethro didn't move away, Tony kissed his slightly parted lips. There was no response, but at least Jethro didn't pull back. "How we stayed awake all night, having sex?" Tony kissed him again, that time feeling Jethro's mouth soften against his lips. It wasn't much but it sure was something. "And more sex?"

 

Jethro pulled back a couple of inches and gave another, barely perceptible, shake of the head, and a sad look passed across his features.

 

"I'd been waiting for you to make the first move, and you'd been waiting for me – for months. I knew you'd been looking at me differently, just wasn't sure what you really wanted, how far we should take it. But after you kissed me you asked me why we waited so long to get down and dirty." Tony kissed Jethro again, ever so slowly, introducing his tongue, his heart jumping when there was a slight response, parted lips and a tentative touch of Jethro's tongue. "At least I caught a fish for our dinner. Or maybe half a fish. More than you did, Mr. Fancy Fishing Pole."

 

Jethro murmured, "You're supposed to fish with a pole, not a Sig, DiNozzo." He leaned in, one tentative hand rising to brush against Tony's ribs, then up his back, pulling him closer. Their mouths met, tongues teasing and taunting, eliciting murmurs of encouragement from Tony and a soft groan from Jethro.

 

Tony closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of Jethro's hand on his back, warm and firm in its caress. Another hand slid through his hair and then cupped his jaw as Jethro sought just the right angle, and deepened his kiss. Tony smiled into the kiss, then suddenly stopped and pulled back a couple of inches. He stared into Jethro's eyes, watching the older man's expression change from sexually charged to confused and then wary.

 

Tony moved back and Jethro's hands dropped away. Desiring to be held and at the same time feeling the need to be apart, Tony sat on the bed, staring at the older man. Eventually Tony spoke, with the volume of his voice escalating with each sentence, "You do remember. You said I pulled out my Sig." Jethro's eyes flickered and Tony's heart seemed to freeze. He accused, "You remember, Jethro, that I pulled out my gun and shot that fish! Why do you…why do you keep saying you don't remember when it's obvious you do?"

 

Gibbs reached for Tony, but Tony brushed his hand away impatiently. "No!" Tony stood up, bristling with a slowly mounting anger, staring down at the man who sat stiffly on the bed, looking down at his hands clasped so tight his knuckles showed white. "Damn it, don't just sit there! Say something, Jethro! Why the hell would you lie to me and say you don't remember anything about us?"

 

*** end chapter 7 ***

 


	8. Chapter 8

"Tony, don't. Just don't. Please…" Jethro rose from the bed and reached out for Tony's arm, but the younger man jerked away, his eyes flashing with anger.

 

"Don't what? Don't remind you of the good times we had? What we meant to each other?" Tony said sarcastically, "Oh yeah, I meant to say what you mean _to me_ because it's pretty obvious this little thing we had going was one-sided."

 

'Tony–."

 

"Oh, _now_ you remember my name!" Gibbs stood there scowling, his features rigid with anger, but Tony wasn't yet done reaming out the man he was already thinking of as being his _former_ lover. "What d'you want from me, Gibbs? You want me to leave you alone so you can sneak off on your hiatus or whatever it is, without telling me where you're going? You want to avoid all those pesky questions like why are you _pretending_ you don't remember your past?" Tony moved in until he stood close to Gibbs, taking advantage of his height and demanding, "Is it just _me_ you don't want to remember? Is that what this is about? Don't ask, don't tell? Is this because I want to tell the people I work with, the people we care about, that you and I are seeing each other and that maybe, just _maybe_ , we have something going on between us that's good and is going to last a while? Maybe I should rephrase that: it was good, past tense. Are you ashamed of us…of me? I thought we had something lasting…Or maybe we never were more than fuck-buddies and I've been deluding myself."

 

Gibbs' eyes were dark with anger when he retorted, "You're looking for a take-down, DiNozzo."

 

Tony stepped closer, and said, "I'm looking for answers."

 

They were standing so close that there was little space between their bodies. Gibbs placed his hands on Tony's chest and ordered, "You don't understand. Sit down. Sit."

 

That time he left off the 'please' and sounded more like his old self, but Tony was fuming and hurt, and he didn't like the way the feeling of Gibbs' hands cut through his defenses and made him want to lean in and kiss the bastard. Plus Tony sure as hell wasn't ready to listen to any justifications Gibbs planned to throw his way. "I don't understand? I understand how it's hard for you to accept everything that comes with admitting that we're lovers. Hell, you can't even say the words aloud when you're with me so how can I expect you to tell Ducky or Abby that we're in a relationship. It's not easy for me, either, but at least I'm willing to give it a try and I'm not hiding under a rock like what we're doing is some shameful secret. I get it, honest, but what I cannot understand is how you can walk out on your career, _on your team_ , because some asshole wearing a few stars on his shoulders made a terrible choice and allowed some of our men to die needlessly, because that's what you're doing. You're not going on a nice little vacation in the sun. You're running out on us without even looking backwards!"

 

Gibbs didn't reply, just stood there with his shoulders bunched up, all tense and pale, with a stricken look in his eyes that Tony felt guilty for putting there. Tony pushed aside an almost overwhelming need to wrap Gibbs up in a big hug and tell him, no, _beg him_ , to stay and to forget everything he'd been saying. They could talk, work it out, do whatever it took to make things right again. Instead, Tony hardened his heart when it became clear that Gibbs wasn't about to explain. Gibbs never did. "You know what? There's no point in me asking you to reconsider, of me begging you not to go. Ducky got it right when he said, 'Once Gibbs makes up his mind, his mind is made up.' There's no give in you, Gibbs, and I need you to give a little."

 

There was a muscle twitching in Gibbs' jaw and his eyes were bright with conflicting emotions but he never opened his mouth. Tony knew there was nothing to gain by continuing his barrage of questions and accusations. He didn't trust what he might say or do next, and he'd pretty much said it all by now anyway, so with a dismissive motion of his hand Tony turned away to head for the door.

 

"Tony–." Tony felt his arm grabbed and he was pulled back roughly, and instinctively he swung around with his free arm raised, hand bunched into a fist. Gibbs swiftly raised his arm in defense and blocked Tony's punch. If anyone would ever suggest to Tony that he'd throw a punch at Jethro within his lifetime, he'd have told them they were crazy. But something in him snapped; maybe it was exhaustion or a surge of adrenaline, or frustration capped by fear that he'd lost his one chance at settling down with the person he loved more than anyone else in the world – or all of them combined together into one big volatile cocktail – but Tony did the unthinkable and purposely hit Jethro, striking him hard enough in the chest to force a grunt out of him.

 

Gibbs recovered quickly; he could have retaliated with his fists but instead Gibbs followed through by twisting Tony's right arm up behind his back, hooking a foot under his leg and forcing him face down on the bed, all in the space of three seconds.

 

Tony, red-faced with anger and embarrassment, struggled and swore between clenched teeth. With his free arm he jabbed his elbow hard into Gibbs' belly, then reared back and almost got free, but the ex-Marine was like a bulldog. He kept up the pressure on Tony's arm and pinned him to the mattress. "Stop it, Tony!" Gibbs ordered, his voice shaking. "Enough!"

 

Even though it felt like his shoulder was on fire, Tony's response was to attempt to break free. All he got for his trouble was one angry Marine leaning into him. For a recently wounded man, Gibbs sure knew how to put the pressure on and Tony gritted his teeth to prevent himself from crying out.

 

Gibbs' breath was harsh in his ear. "I can't talk to you like this. You had enough?"

 

Refusing to give in, Tony shook his head and a groan escaped, muffled by the bedding under his face. Gibbs pinched his hand and an excruciating pain traveled up Tony's arm, and he knew he'd had enough. Out of desperation Tony was forced to use his safe word. It came out in a whimper. "Semper fi."

 

Gibbs released him immediately and moved to the side, breathing heavily.

 

Tony groaned and lay on his stomach, panting, unable to move for a couple of minutes. His shoulder was aching and he was numb all the way from his right hand up to his elbow. Shit, what had he been thinking? He'd experienced Gibbs' version of the Vulcan death grip before, when they'd sparred in the gym at work, and Tony knew that the older man didn't hold back with anyone. The only consolation was that Gibbs knew what he was doing and how much pressure he could exert without damaging his opponent. Even so, right now Tony felt as though he'd been through the wringer and pitied Gibbs' enemies if they ever got into hand combat with him.

 

Tony's anger dissipated almost as fast as it had risen, though his breathing was as labored as if he'd run a couple of miles. Eventually he managed to turn onto his back and found Gibbs lying by his side on the big bed, their arms and legs almost touching. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Gibbs' arms were wrapped around his stomach, his face still flushed from the struggle. Tony rubbed the sore spot on his hand where Gibbs had gripped it even though the pain had already faded. "You were going to break my arm, Gibbs," he complained.

 

Gibbs gave him a sideways glance that clearly conveyed that Tony should stop complaining. He grunted and allowed, "Then we're even. You landed a good one in my belly."

 

Right away Tony propped himself up on one elbow and looked at Jethro with concern. He reached out, slid Jethro's the shirt up and rubbed his palm in circles on his belly. "Did I hurt you, Boss? Didn't mean to. Well, maybe I did, but you weren't exactly holding back, either. Uh…want to try it again? Maybe this time we can get wrestle face to face and get some action on."

 

Gibbs slowly shook his head. "What am I going to do with you, DiNozzo?"

 

"I don't know," Tony replied and flopped onto his back to stare at the ceiling in the darkened bedroom. He didn't want to mess this up but he hadn't done very well so far. "I just don't understand," he said, almost to himself. They lay side by side for a while, until Tony knew he either had to get up and go back to his lonely apartment or get the show on the road, Unsure of what reaction he'd get, Tony sought out Jethro's hand, and when he wasn't rebuffed he intertwined their fingers. His tentative squeeze received a warm response from the callused fingers.

 

Tony turned his head so he could look at Jethro, and said slowly, "It's just that I don't want you to go. I guess I lost my cool." Jethro turned and met Tony's eyes. The appeal in their deep blue depths told Tony that the man was sorry, but Tony wasn't sure what he was feeling sorry for. Was he sorry about pretending he had no memory of them as a couple, sorry for planning on running away, or for something else altogether? Gibbs had a lot of explaining to do and Tony had a feeling it wasn't going to be forthcoming.

 

There was also a hint of a plea in Jethro's eyes when he asked, "What do you want me to say?"

 

Tony responded with an entreaty of his own. "You can start by saying you'll stay. We can work through it. I know you – you don't walk out on things. You're not a quitter, Jethro."

 

Immediately Gibbs shook his head. "I can't. I need to get away." He sat up with a grunt and rubbed his stomach.

 

Tony raised himself on both elbows, then sighed and sat up beside Jethro. "You mean you need to get away from me."

 

"Did I say that? No, not from you. From…everything. Look, Tony, I don't know how to explain this," Gibbs said irritably.

 

Annoyed again, Tony said, "Try."

 

Tony didn't move, just waited patiently, and after a moment Gibbs' shoulders slumped and he said in a quiet voice, "I don't understand it myself." There was a long pause then he said, "I woke up in that damned hospital and everyone kept telling me what year it was, telling me about everything I'd missed, telling me who I am…or who I'm supposed to be. I looked in the mirror and saw an old man, which wasn't easy to get used to, believe me. I didn't recognize myself. They told me I was a special agent, responsible for the lives of people I didn't even know. I'm not that man they keep telling me I am. It all feels…false. I don't _know_ Agent Gibbs." He ran a hand over his face. "I know Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs. I know Gunny. I know _him_." Jethro turned a little and sent a look of appeal to Tony. "When Mike Franks turned up at the hospital and called me Probie, I knew exactly who I was, and I knew I'd been wounded, and that I'd just been shipped stateside. Hell, right now I can even feel the shrapnel wound in my leg, like it happened yesterday."

 

Tony shifted uncomfortably. He couldn’t compete with Franks, and all those memories they shared. Gibbs seemed to want to be part of that past, which was unsettling. Trying to remain calm, Tony said, "But you pretended you couldn’t remember bout us. That means you _did_ remember us."

 

Gibbs gave a deep sigh. "Only some of it. At first, in the hospital, I didn't know who you were. I didn't know anyone and those I did, like the doctor, I knew him in a different time." He shrugged. "I had a feeling about you, one I couldn’t shake, but I didn't know what it was all about."

 

Tony was a little upset that Jethro hadn't acted upon his gut feeling that they meant something to each other. "Yeah, I could tell you didn't know me when you first woke up. But that's not the problem – it came back to you and you denied it."

 

"By the time you walked in here this evening…I had a pretty good idea. Those photos…I'd been looking at the album before you came in…at pictures of Shannon." Gibbs looked straight at Tony and admitted, "I saw the photos of the team, of us camping. I saw your photo and then you walked in and…I think I'd already figured it out."

 

"You never lied to me before. Not ever," Tony said, unable to keep the disappointment and hurt out of his voice. "So why'd you think you needed to lie to me about remembering our relationship?"

 

Gibbs studied his hands, clenched in his lap. "I do remember most everything now. At least I think I do. But inside me, inside it's like I'm in a different time. It's '91 and I'm right and everyone else is wrong." He let out a frustrated breath. "I can't explain it. To me, Shannon and Kelly just…" His voice cracked when he continued. "They've just died, Tony. It's fresh for me and I don't care what anyone tells me, that's _my_ truth." He touched his chest above his heart. "That's where my heart is right now and I'm sorry, so sorry, but I don't have any room in here for anyone else except them. I don't have anything to give you, Tony. I'm with them now." In a voice that was almost a whisper Gibbs pled, "Can you understand that?"

 

"I…I think so." Tony knew right then and there that even if he didn't want Jethro to be stuck in the past, he still had to help him deal with it. He just wasn't sure how or even _if_ he could help bring Jethro back to the present. And it looked like his lover wanted to remain with his family for now, to grieve for them once again. Who was he to intrude on that, anyway? The bottom line was that it was Jethro who mattered, not himself. Just the same, Tony wanted Jethro to acknowledge their relationship, to give him some hope for the future. Tony knew he was being needy and, okay, selfish as well, but he and Jethro were alive and they were here now. The whole situation scared him because if Jethro wasn't able to work this out, if he spent who knows how long repeating the grieving process he'd already gone through once before, there was no chance for them.

 

Tony leaned a little into the older man's shoulder. "All right. I think I understand, Jethro. A man has to deal with things his own way, and you've got a lot to deal with, a lot to work out. I want you to let me help you but I get the feeling you're not ready for that yet. I hope that when you've figured it all out…or got a handle on it…" He reached over and laid a hand on Jethro's chest, over his heart. "I hope you can still find some room in here for me."

 

Jethro froze at the intimate touch but Tony didn't retract his hand. He waited, feeling the man's heart pounding beneath his fingertips like he was running a long-distance race.

 

Although it was unlikely that Jethro would take any advice from him, Tony added, "Please don't do anything rash. When you act impulsively you make poor decisions, Jethro. Think about those last three marriages." Jethro gave him a sideways look and Tony instinctively prepared himself for a reprimand, but it never came. All of his marriages had started with spur-of-the-moment proposals according to Gibbs. "Though I guess now you can claim amnesia if you ever run into any of the former Mrs. Gibbses," he said with a smile.

 

And as for leaving NCIS, abandoning his team, handing in his resignation or retirement papers or whatever the hell he'd submitted to the director earlier that day? Tony was convinced that was an emotionally driven decision that his boss would regret, given time to think about his actions and their consequences. Well, the sooner Jethro realized he'd made a mistake the sooner he'd come back to them.

 

Just as Tony was about to withdraw his hand from where it rested on Jethro's chest, the older man reached up and covered Tony's hand with his own. "It matters a lot to me that I can count on you, Tony." He turned his head slightly and their eyes met. "I can count on you being here." It was almost a question the way he said it, and Tony caught the nuance.

 

He knew that Jethro needed stability when his world had literally been blown apart, and if Tony could be the anchor, then he'd be proud to take on that responsibility. He also accepted that Jethro was leaving the next morning for an unknown destination; he could see it in his eyes. Although naturally curious, a part of Tony didn't really want to know where Jethro was going. Maybe he was still hoping that at the last minute Jethro would change his mind and stay. The most important thing was to offer him whatever support he needed.

 

"You need to deal with your ghosts, Jethro. You need to put them to rest so you can come back here." To come back to me, he thought. It was suddenly hard to speak. "No matter where you go, or what you decide, I want you to know without a doubt that I'm always gonna be here for you." He looked Jethro straight in the eyes when he said, "Never doubt that."

 

"I know." Gibbs nodded then released Tony's hand and stood, his movements a bit stiff. "Gotta hit the head." He went into the bathroom and closed the door. When he came out a few minutes later he had his shaving kit and a bottle of sunscreen in hand. He dropped them into the open bag on the bed then stood there wearily. Eventually Gibbs looked at Tony, who hadn't moved from where he'd been sitting on the bed. "I never doubt you, Tony. Never."

 

Tony dipped his head, trying valiantly not to allow his emotions to overwhelm him. He nodded, took a deep breath and stood with a smile. "You must be ready to drop into bed. I'll say good-bye then and…" He said in a low tone, his voice shaky, "You take care, Jethro. Make sure you use plenty of that sunscreen." He couldn't look at Jethro when he whispered, "Bye," and ran from the room.

 

*** end chapter 8 ***


	9. Chapter 9

The front door opened and then closed so quietly that Gibbs almost missed hearing it. He stood there in the middle of his dimly lit bedroom, wondering if he'd just made a terrible mistake. A feeling of panic rose from his stomach to his throat, and he cursed himself for being every kind of fool. Gibbs had tasted what Tony had to offer him - the understanding, loyalty and utter love - and yet he had done nothing to accept it fully. He was throwing away the chance to enjoy a future with Tony for a past he knew, deep down, that he couldn’t change.

 

There was no way that Tony would be here when - _if_ \- he ever got back, that much Gibbs knew. Tony was a smart boy. He'd find someone else, someone steady who'd take care of him as he deserved to be taken care of. Someone who knew enough to grab onto a good thing when he saw it. Someone who was willing to let down his defenses, who wouldn't push Tony away.

 

Suddenly drained and too tired to think, Gibbs prepared to go to bed. He took the travel bag off the bed and dropped it on the floor. The photo album fell out and he stooped to retrieve it. It opened to the photo of Tony holding up the fish he'd shot and the sight of that young man's grin, the utter joy of the moment shining from his face as if he'd achieved the most wonderful thing in the world, caused a pain in Gibbs' heart. He stood rooted to that spot, taking in the photo of the man he loved above everything else in the world – the man who he'd practically forced out of his life.

 

Time stood still for a very long moment…and then Leroy Jethro Gibbs shouted explosively, "Damn it, DiNozzo!" He pivoted and ran down the stairs, almost tripping in his haste. He knew he was too late, that he'd never catch Tony in time. Tony would have started up his car, gunned the engine in his rush to be out of there. Tony was done with the worn-out man who wouldn't give an inch, and valued the ghosts and memories of his past more than the living. Tony would be long gone.

 

With his heart pounding in his chest, Gibbs ran out his front door into the cold, dark night, down the path to the curb, desperately seeking out Tony's car from the vehicles parked along both sides of the street even though he knew that his search was fruitless.

 

He looked both ways but the car wasn't there. He'd missed him. "Tony," Gibbs let out in a huff of breath. _Tony_. His heart ached with loss - loss of his family, his job, of everything he held dear. He felt the loss of those men on the frigate, those unfortunate victims of the terrorist's devastating bomb. He regretted the loss of his memory and, almost worse, the loss of the oblivious state that the amnesia had brought him for a while - that safe, unknowing place where the terrors of the world had seemed so far away. The cocoon he'd wrapped around himself had just been an illusion, and once it had been pulled away, the horrors were still there, in full force.

 

Gibbs turned to head back inside but he caught sight of something that gave him pause. Halfway up the block a car's interior light went on and then a moment later off again. It took him a few seconds for it to sink in that it was Tony, sitting in his parked car. Gibbs heard the engine rev as Tony put the car into drive and started to pull out.

 

"Shit," Gibbs muttered then ran up the sidewalk to catch Tony and prevent him from leaving.

 

***

 

There was a shout and a rap on the passenger window, startling Tony. He hit the brake and lowered the window.

 

Gibbs appeared, his breath clouding in the cold night air. "Get the hell back inside, DiNozzo. I'm not finished with you yet."

 

***

 

Tony had barely stepped back into the warm house when Gibbs shoved him against the wall. Tony started to demand what the hell kind of game he was playing at, but Gibbs said roughly, "Shut up, Tony," so he complied. Tony didn't know who made the first move, but he suspected Gibbs beat him to it by a millisecond. Their mouths met and all of the emotions they'd both been trying so hard to rein in came to a head. There was nothing gentle about the way Jethro was kissing him, using his tongue and teeth, sucking and nipping, hot and possessive, pulling an equally strong reaction out of Tony. Gibbs' hands roved down to grasp Tony's ass, pulling him close, and Tony, all defenses down, melted into him.

 

Although Tony had desperately wanted this to happen, now that Jethro was laying claim to his mouth it somehow felt wrong. It all seemed too…desperate. When Jethro's mouth moved along his chin and down to his throat, sucking and licking with a hot tongue, leaving a damp trail, Tony placed both of his palms on Jethro's chest and pushed him back. "Wait…Jethro, just wait!"

 

Gibbs stood there panting, his eyes on Tony's mouth as if he couldn’t bear to tear his gaze away from his parted lips.

 

"Jethro!"

 

 The sharp tone made Jethro look up impatiently. "What? Something wrong?"

 

They stood close enough for Tony to feel every breath Jethro took, as if they were his own. "No, nothing wrong. It's just…just too fast." Tony stroked gentle fingers down Jethro's cheek, careful to avoid the burned skin, and offered a small smile. "Let's slow down a little, okay?"

 

Jethro's hands slid along Tony's arms and claimed his hands. He tugged at Tony, backing up a step and pulling him along with him. "C'mon, then. We need to do this right," he said huskily.

 

***

 

They stood, once again, in Gibbs' bedroom, facing each other in the warm glow of the single bedside lamp. Both men were fully dressed, with Tony still wearing his trench coat.

 

Tony hadn't expected to be invited – or to be commanded, which was closer to the truth – back into Gibbs' house anytime soon. Even so, Tony took it as a good sign that Jethro had opened the door and let him back into his life once again. Tony found that he was inexplicably nervous, which was stupid. It wasn't like it was their first time. It was important, though, that he didn't mess this up, and Tony had a feeling that although Jethro was putting on a bold face, that his alpha-male demeanor was covering up something far more fragile than either of them would like to acknowledge.

 

Tony was more than glad to get another chance to prove to this man how much he cared about him, how deeply he loved him. He'd shown his love to Jethro, time and again with looks and touches, but Tony had never actually said the words. Jethro had never declared himself either, but Tony hadn't expected the man to speak openly about his feelings. He had accepted that it simply wasn't the ex-Marine's way. And now, when Jethro was dealing once again with the loss of his family, and finding the grief all-too fresh in his mind, the older man needed to be loved and cherished with tender care.

 

Tony took Jethro's face in both of his hands, cupping his jaw, and offered him a gentle kiss that soon deepened. The response from Jethro was equally amorous, a soft slide of lips and tongues, a beginning that held some promise. When they parted both men were breathless and Tony gave a wide, genuine smile. It was the first time that he'd smiled, he realized, in almost a week.

 

He laughed aloud with relief and Jethro smiled in return, his eyes clearly speaking of his own desire. Jethro reached out and slowly tugged Tony's shirt out of his waistband, then started on his belt and undid the button on the waistband of Tony's pants. Tony started to shrug out of his trench coat, but Jethro stopped him. "Leave it on," he said on a low tone.

 

Suddenly finding it very hard to breathe, heat flooding to his dick, Tony held his hands away from his body. He let Jethro pull his pants' zipper down and slip his hand inside the tight confines of Tony's pants. Slowly and firmly Jethro rubbed the silky cloth of the boxers back and forth over Tony's cock.

 

Tony swallowed hard, his eyes half closing from the delicious friction of the cloth sliding across his hardening erection. He was just getting into it when Jethro surprised him by squeezing hard enough to force him on tiptoes. Tony gasped and grabbed Jethro's shoulders for support. "You keep that up and we'll never get our clothes off," Tony warned in a whisper-thin voice.

 

Jethro's mouth hovered over Tony's, not quite touching his lips, his breath warm and familiar. "Who said we needed to get undressed?" Back to making soft strokes along the length of Tony's rigid shaft, Jethro slid his other hand beneath the silky underwear to caress Tony's ass. "Hot," he murmured into Tony's mouth. He kissed Tony, enticing his lips to part then flicking his tongue back and forth once he gained entrance. Jethro's palm caressed Tony's shaft once more before he withdrew his hands from inside his shorts in order to lift Tony's shirt enough to expose his chest. Jethro rubbed his thumbs back and forth across Tony's nipples, then lowered his head to suck at each of the sensitive nubs in turn.

 

Tony moaned and after a few minutes he pulled away long enough to drag Jethro's shirt up and over his head. "I want to look at you," he said as he slid his palms down Jethro's muscled chest and stomach, riffling the hairs, stopping momentarily to roll and tweak his nipples. "God, I love everything about you, Boss."

 

Through half-closed eyes, Jethro slowly looked up and down Tony's body, his admiration apparent. He reached out to cup Tony's groin where his erection pressed against his clothing in a vain attempt to escape. "Bed," Jethro murmured in reply to Tony's groan. They toppled onto the firm mattress, Tony twisting so he fell on top of the older man, his coat spreading like a tent over their bodies.

 

Jethro got his hands under Tony's bunched-up shirt and ran his fingers across his ribs and up his back, smoothing the warm skin with broad, even strokes. He lipped Tony's neck and then sucked and finally bit into the tender flesh on one side of his throat.

 

Tony's response was to grind his pelvis against Jethro's groin, the friction of cloth against cloth incredibly arousing. Making small sounds of need, Tony angled his head to capture Jethro's mouth. He kissed him deeply with a passion that spoke of his love and desire. "I want…I want…" He wanted to be the one inside his partner, just this one time, to bury his cock deep inside Jethro's hot flesh. He wanted to be part of Jethro and to give everything of himself. But he also wanted to be _wanted_ by this man, if only half as much as he needed him. He wanted Jethro to be part of his flesh, his life, his very being.

 

"What do you want?" Jethro held Tony's face in both of his hands. Tony shook his head, unable to vocalize his needs, how he wanted to give all of himself but even more he wanted to be the one to take the lead.

 

Jethro wouldn't let him go until he'd heard whatever Tony was having such a hard time with. "Tell me. Tell what it is you want, Tony. C'mon, trust me with it." It was an entreaty, not an order. Their bodies shifted positions and rolled until they lay side by side, facing each other. Jethro laid one hand possessively on the side of Tony's neck, his thumb moving back and forth across the tense muscles, drawing a slight shiver from the younger man.

 

Tony couldn't breathe. He had to say something, anything, and he could feel that his face was flushed and he was trembling all over and he had no idea why this hurt so much, why it was so damned difficult to get out. He bit down his nervousness and said softly, "I want you to want me, Jethro. I know that Shannon will always be first in your heart. I understand but I just want to be wanted, that's all. You don't have to love me, you don't."

 

"Tony…" Jethro ran his hand down Tony's hair to his neck in long, soothing strokes. "You don't have to bargain. I--."

 

"No, Jethro, you don't have to say it."

 

Jethro cupped Tony's face in both of his hands. "Tony, listen to me…"

 

"Please, Jethro, just _want_ me." His voice was cracking by the time the last words were said, and embarrassed, he tried to drop his head but couldn’t because Jethro wouldn’t let him. Tony lowered his eyes and fixed his gaze on Jethro's chest, only inches away, on the gray hairs, the occasional freckle across his untanned skin and the dusky brown areolas around his nipples. Tony salivated at the thought of sucking those nipples and mouthing the cock that was pressing hard against his groin and demanding his attention, the heat seeping through his trousers. Shit, he was still fully dressed and at this rate he was going to shoot his load long before they got down to business. Tony closed his eyes and tried hard to get his ragged breathing back under control, but it was damned difficult.

 

Then Jethro's mouth claimed his and the kiss made it better, sapped his strength right out from under him. Tony was lost in the feeling once again, but it was a temporary respite. All too soon the kiss ended. He sidled close so he could nuzzle Jethro's neck and inhale his scent.

 

"Oh, Tony," Jethro said, his voice soft with love and bemusement. "I want you. _Want_ you. Can't you feel my body craving yours? I thought you understood that. Hey…" He tipped Tony's head up so he could look into his eyes. "Look at me, please?"

 

It took a couple of tries but Tony was finally able to meet Jethro's perceptive gaze. He almost died when he saw what those blue eyes expressed - the need and, yes, the want.

 

A look dawned on Jethro's face as if he'd only just discovered something terribly important. Like he'd finally deciphered a clue that everyone had been staring at yet missed. "You're a complete idiot, Tony, and that makes me love you all the more," he said fondly. Jethro gave a huff of a laugh, his smile lighting up his face. "But I'm an idiot, too, for not saying it, so we're in this together. Damn it, I love you, Tony."

 

Then Tony got it, really understood that this was no fleeting feeling they shared. This was the real thing. "I've loved you forever, Leroy Jethro Gibbs," Tony confessed. It was deep and irrevocable love, the kind that came with permanence and pain and made everything - _everything_ \- worthwhile. "You want me to head slap you for being an idiot?" Tony asked with a broad smile.

 

Jethro frowned to put an end to any such notion, but there was a twinkle in his eye just the same. "Tell me what you want," Jethro said gently.

 

Tony wanted Jethro to say he'd stay, that he'd return to work and put aside any notion of leaving, but he knew that they were past the point of no return. Tony shrugged and ran his palm across the older man's chest, rubbing the heel of his hand across one pert nipple. He said quietly, "Well, for starters I'd prefer to do it without any clothes on. I mean wearing the trench coat is sort of hot and sexy, in an old-man-pervert sort of way, especially if I'm wearing nothing else except the coat and my Zenga shoes, and you've still got your pants on but I'd really like for us to be naked and--"

 

"Shut up, Tony, and take your damned clothes off," Gibbs growled.

 

*** end chapter 9 ***


	10. Chapter 10

They divested themselves of their clothing, fast, and with some of the desperation that Jethro's initial kisses had held. Tony longed to be inside of Jethro's body, to spill his seed in his depths, to be on top of him when he had his ultimate release. He had always been the one to accept, to take what Jethro had to give, but this time it seemed important that things be different.

 

Tony took Jethro's face in his hands, careful of his sensitive skin, and kissed him deeply. He felt Jethro fight back, giving as good as he got, tongue battling, licking and teasing and then, slowly, Jethro's mouth softened and he moaned. One moment Jethro was on top, naked, straddling him, and the next second Tony exerted his greater weight; he rolled over and captured Jethro underneath him. Tony could see the surprise in Jethro's expression, so he laughed and ran his tongue along Jethro's neck and mouthed the soft flesh above his collarbone. He felt Jethro tense under him and grasp his arms in a painful grip, not quite willing to accept Tony as the aggressor. Tony poised, just for a second, and then he sucked hard at Jethro's tender skin. Jethro gave a strangled cry and struggled a little but he gave in when Tony licked the red mark tenderly and said, "I want to take care of you, Jethro. You'll let me do that for you?"

 

Jethro closed his eyes and turned his head, exposing his neck in a move that was both submissive and welcoming. 

 

Tony nuzzled Jethro's neck and inhaled the scent that emanated from him - coffee and lingering hints of after-shave and fresh sweat - and it drove his body nearer to the edge. They were both hard, their cocks trapped between their bodies; Tony's was leaking pre-come over their bellies and he was desperate to have Jethro touch him and finish him off. It wouldn’t take much but somehow, and with far more patience than he thought he possessed, Tony held back. He said, "Let me be the one."

 

Jethro opened his eyes and looked up at Tony expectantly, with a slight smile on his lips, his eyes drinking in everything that Tony had to offer. He reached up to brush his fingers through Tony's short hair, his eyes soft and full of wonder at the feelings that the man in his arms stirred in his heart. "Whatever you want," Jethro said.

 

"I want to fuck you," Tony said plainly, his need coloring his voice. "Let me take care of you…this one time." He had always been the receiver, the receptacle, and although he loved giving of himself to Jethro, and submitted more than willingly, this time he had a feeling that they both needed him to be the strong one. "I want to give this to you, Jethro, to make you feel the way you always make me feel when you're inside me, hot and full. I want you to know what it feels like. I want to give you something back…"

 

Jethro raised his head and kissed Tony with tenderness and passion, expressing the depth of his feelings with his mouth and hands, and the way he raised his hips to meet Tony's. He took a deep breath, his eyes still on Tony's face above him, and then he sighed out and let his muscles relax, raising one knee and offering himself fully to Tony.

 

For the first time that Tony could ever recall, Leroy Jethro Gibbs simply let go and allowed another person to take charge. It was no small matter of trust that Jethro was leaving everything up to Tony, to decide on what he thought was best.

 

Tony rained kisses on Jethro's chest, following the trail of silver-gray hair that led down his belly and to the prize. There was no doubt that Jethro was ready for him, his cock standing up and begging for attention. Tony licked and sucked at the hot, silken cock, and fondled Jethro's balls, enjoying the inarticulate noises he was able to elicit from his lover. Teeth took their toll, nipping and scraping, his tongue and lips working Jethro into a state of frustration.

 

Jethro moaned when Tony's mouth stopped plying its magic on his erect dick. He grasped at Tony's shaft to squeeze and stroke it until the younger man pushed his hands away. "Take it easy, Jethro. Let me do all the work. Let me take care of you." Tony massaged Jethro's inner thighs then his fingers of one hand encircled the base of his thick shaft, the other caressing his balls with slow, even strokes.

 

Tony reached for the lube and squeezed a generous amount on his fingertips. He kissed the corner of Jethro's mouth, where a crease had appeared that hadn't been there only a few days ago - a lifetime ago. His skin was soft, with stubble overlay that scraped Tony's cheek, rough as the sandpaper he used on his boat. Jethro angled his head, and their tongues met and explored in the age-old give and take, and in the middle of the sweet, wet kiss, Tony slipped a finger inside of him.

 

Jethro jerked when Tony's finger slowly entered his tight passage, and when he relaxed another finger joined it, easing in and out. Tony touched him…just there…and it wasn't long before Jethro was moaning and gasping and writhing, a shock of pleasure causing his balls to pull up tight in his body. He cried out Tony's name and swore at the younger man's smile of delight at the response to his torment. "Damn it!"

 

Jethro's hips rose, bucking, while he pled for more. "God, yes, Tony…there…Oh, God…"

 

His mouth hovering just above Jethro's, Tony ordered in a low voice, "Tell me what you want."

 

"Want…I want you in me. Now!"

 

"I'm going to fuck you, Boss," Tony replied, adding another finger to the two already deep inside his partner. He curled his fingers and Jethro's eyes widened and he jerked with a gasp. He grabbed onto Tony's shoulders, pulling himself up and off the bedding, his breaths coming faster, releasing small sounds of need with every breath he exhaled.

 

Jethro's moans made Tony's dick throb in response. He was so hard and aching he was afraid he was going to come at the slightest provocation, but he concentrated on what he was about to do next and was able to regain some of his fragile sense of control. Tony withdrew his fingers slowly, sorry to see a slight wince on Jethro's face.

 

Tony braced himself with one arm and ran his hand up and down Jethro's shaft, enjoying how it grew even harder under his touch. Running a finger across the head of Jethro's dick elicited a whimper and a plea, to which Tony responded with a fierce, possessive kiss.

 

Being the one calling the shots affected Tony in a way he'd never expected. He liked sleeping with men, and embraced the rough action and the sheer weight of a hard male body overpowering him; he loved the ease with which he could relinquish control and allow another man to guide him, the feeling of it being so right. But to be the man at the helm when Jethro was the vessel was a whole different kind of experience. Tony had imagined that the power that being on top evoked would make him more aggressive, but instead it brought out his nurturing, tender side. All he wanted was to give Jethro pleasure, and pleasing his lover always brought Tony a sense of satisfaction and joy in return.

 

Tony's body ached at the wonder of having Leroy Jethro Gibbs under him, accepting him, becoming one with him. Tony positioned himself and gently pressed, watching Jethro carefully, gratified to see a look of avid anticipation and trust on his face. He slowly eased his length into Jethro's tight passage, eliciting a whimper of response. Tony waited, his eyes never leaving Jethro's face, and once the startled look diminished Tony pulled back a little and moved back in, with a long, slow thrust. That time Jethro gasped and his hands clenched the bedding, his eyes wide and dark with desire.

 

Tony put all of his energy and passion into the physical movement, angling his hips one way and then another, pumping to an uneven tempo, his heart and breathing quickening, his body running on primal need. Jethro was calling out to God or maybe he was saying it was good, because Tony was deaf to the meaning of his lover's words and was probably saying pretty much the same thing.

 

Tony grasped Jethro's cock, all velvet and hot rigid steel. He exerted pressure and slid his hand up and down with a twist and felt it jerk under his hand as Jethro came with a great rush. Jethro was clawing at his shoulders and coming and Tony had to follow suit soon or else he was going to explode. His hips arched and plunged into the depths of the hot, slick tunnel that gripped his shaft. There was a tremendous pressure at the head of Tony's dick, building with every thrust he made. He was grunting and sweating and his balls were slapping against Jethro and he took more pleasure than he thought was possible from the sight of his own base desire reflected in his lover's features. Moans and desperate cries filled the bedroom and Tony couldn’t tell and didn't care if they came from his lover's mouth or from his own.

 

Tony came in a great rush with a shudder and cry and he let loose a trembling moan as they sank together onto the mattress, entwined in each other's arms, loose-limbed and thoroughly sated. Just about incapable of any lucid thought, Tony managed to grin at the look of utter pleasure on Jethro's face.

 

***

 

Tony was being held securely in the embrace of Jethro's arms, lulled into a relaxed state by the gentle strokes to his hair. It was still dark out but Tony couldn’t help thinking about what was likely to happen come morning. There was no way to delay the inevitable: Jethro would leave. Making love hadn't changed anything, not really; Gibbs was still in mourning for a family and a time he felt he was still a part of, and he'd made it clear he needed to get away in order to figure it all out in his head. Tony understood it, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

 

Jethro would be gone, all too soon, and Tony would be left behind, alone. For a fleeting moment Tony even considered accompanying Jethro to wherever he was going, but knew it wouldn’t work. Jethro needed to face his demons alone, to finally lay them to rest if he and Tony were to have a chance at a future together.

 

Tony wondered how he was going to find the strength to get up, dress and go to work as if it was just another normal day. He'd have to go on despite the fact that Gibbs, fractured and barely able to cope, was now taking time out to deal with his past, or was retiring or whatever he was calling it. Bottom line was that Jethro was leaving and Tony's heart already ached for him.

 

Tomorrow, when he walked into the NCIS squad room, Tony was going to be wearing different shoes, those of the Supervisory Special Agent, whether he liked it or not. People were going to rely on him and his good judgment to keep them all safe and sound, to get the job done, to make wise judgment calls in the name of justice.

 

Tony had been left holding the pieces and was expected to step right in like it was a natural progression, which it wasn't. Oh, he could lead when it was called for, and he would never shirk his duty. It was sort of like being the top during sex – it might have felt damned good but it wasn't Tony's natural position. Anyway, Tony was sure that the director would have something to say about Gibbs leaving him in charge, and he wasn't looking forward to that conversation.

 

On one hand Tony was sure - okay maybe not as sure as he'd like to be - that he could do the job. He'd handled the show in Gibbs' absence before, and had proven he could combine good investigative skills with executive decisions. Gibbs had handed him the keys to the kingdom but he was riddled with self-doubt and uncertainty. Tony wondered why anyone would be crazy enough to trust him with such an important job.

 

As if he knew what Tony was thinking, Jethro wrapped his arms tighter around him and gave him a good squeeze, testing the limits of his strength. Upon release he placed a soft kiss on Tony's head. "Sleep," he commanded, sounding as if he was back in control for the first time since the explosion.

 

The problems at work paled in comparison to the concerns Tony faced with Jethro. He knew he couldn’t talk him out of leaving, but he had to give the man something rock solid to come back to. For his own sanity, Tony had to confirm that Jethro wanted to come back to him. "Jethro?"

 

"Mmm?"

 

"We're going to be all right, aren't we?"

 

There was no reply at first, but eventually Gibbs shifted and Tony could feel him peering down at his face. "You'll do fine, DiNozzo."

 

He'd used his surname, Tony realized, with a sinking heart. God, did that mean that it was all over? They'd parried a bit then quarreled, if one could call Gibbs' curt responses earlier quarrelsome, and then they'd made up with some damn hot sex. It all seemed surreal, like they were living on different planes, in different times with divergent paths. They'd met briefly, touching each other with a flaring intensity that was destined to burn out before dawn. Instead of filling Tony with warmth and a sense of belonging, Tony was now left with an emptiness that was worse than before he'd had a taste of what it was like for them to come together.

 

Unable to say what he was feeling, Tony turned his head away. Underneath him he could feel the rise and fall of Jethro's chest and their closeness, the strong arms holding him tight, the warm breath in his ear. He drank in the physical sensations and held them close, knowing that before long memories were all he would have of the man he loved.

 

"Hey," Gibbs said. "What's going on in there, Tony?" When he didn't get any response, Gibbs gave Tony a shake.

 

Tony shrugged. "I'm gonna miss you, is all." It was Jethro's turn to be silent, so Tony turned and faced him. He ran his fingers lightly along Jethro's jaw, avoiding the reddened skin on his face, and swallowed hard when emotion welled up suddenly and unexpectedly. "That was so close, Jethro. Too damned close. I don't want to lose you."

 

Jethro's reply was to kiss Tony, a sad, sweet sharing of lips and tongues, with the barest hint of a promise. "I don't want to lose you either, Tony," was all he would say. They eventually fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms, exhausted from the stress of the past few days and the lack of sleep.

 

***

 

Dawn came and Tony awoke to find he was alone in the big bed. For a moment Tony thought that Jethro had already gone and he almost panicked, but then he heard slight sounds coming from the bathroom. He lay still and watched the gray-haired man emerge, wearing jeans and a faded denim shirt. Tony was sure that Jethro was aware of eyes following his every move, but he gave no outward sign of it.

 

After adding a couple of things to his bag and zipping it up, Jethro moved quietly to the door. Once there he hesitated on the threshold, head down, face in shadows, poised like an animal about to give flight. Turning his head towards Tony, Jethro looked as if he intended to say something, but whatever it was never made it past his lips.

 

"You take care, Jethro," Tony said in a voice that sounded far steadier than he felt. "You know where to find me when you're ready to return."

 

Gibbs nodded and left without looking back.

 

*** the end ***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final notes: This story was written a while ago, my first long fic in this fandom, and it was never archived - when I looked it over I realized it really needed some editing, which I've now done.
> 
> I followed the episode script as a basis for my story. I expect that the future for the men in this fic would play out as we see in the following season's episodes (season 4), after Hiatus. Gibbs comes back seeming distant and it takes him a while to regain his self and his purpose, and I imagine he does so because he has Tony, always at his side.


End file.
